Questions, Dares and Deflections
by Rointheta
Summary: Rose and the Doctor invite Mickey and Shareen to the TARDIS for some hot buttered rum and exchanging gifts on Christmas Eve. After a couple of drinks Shareen suggests Truth or Dare and things get out of hand.
1. Interrogation

_This is the twenty third fic in my 2013 Advent Calendar!_

**Note**: This takes place in a post Doomsday timeline where everybody lived and stayed in Prime and everything is hunky-dory. I'm channeling Moffat or something.

**prompt**: "ten x rose, hot buttered rum (felt like being seasonal, lol)"  
**prompter**: thebadddestwolf  
**beta**: resile

* * *

**QUESTIONS, DARES AND DEFLECTIONS  
**_Chapter 1 - Interrogation_

* * *

"This is for you, Mickey. Merry Christmas," Rose says, tossing him his present. "It's from me and the Doctor."

"Thanks, babe!" he says, unwrapping the gift, then gaping at what he finds. "Oh, my god! Are you having me on? It's a sonic screwdriver!"

"Weell, it doesn't have that many settings." The Doctor takes a sip of his hot buttered rum. "Only twenty four. That's about how many I think you can handle, Mickey. None is really dangerous. And don't show it to UNIT." He frowns. "Hm… Give it back. I think I need to remove a few settings."

"No way!" Mickey slips it into his trouser pocket. "So, what's it do?"

"Well, it's sort of a very sophisticated Swiss army knife, only customised for someone freelancing for UNIT. And you can cook eggs with it."

"Really? Eggs? Thanks! I love it!"

"And this is for you, Shareen." Rose hands her friend two gifts. "But you–"

"Ooh, what is it?" Mickey asks, hanging over Shareen's shoulder.

"Uhm, reckon you should open the little one on your own, all right? It's, uhm, it's what we talked about."

"Oh?" Shareen's eyes widens with delight. "It's that vibrator from the future, then? I'm not shy! I wanna see this bad boy right away." She slips the bigger gift into her purse and tears off the silver wrapping paper of the smaller one, squealing when she sees the images on the box. "It is a vibrator from the future. Oh, my god. This looks brill, it does. Can't wait to try it out. Is this the same model you have, Rose?"

"'Nother round?" the Doctor asks, hand on the ear of the pitcher full of hot buttered rum.

"Oh, yeah. I'd love some. Fill me up, buttercup," Shareen says, holding out her mug.

Rose watches him get up from his spot beside her in the sofa, pouring the hot, creamy drink into their mugs for the third time this evening. He looks more at her than what he's doing, but doesn't spill a drop, and beams at her when she takes a sip and hums.

"Told you you'd like it," he says.

"Yeah. It's really good. Gives a good buzz, too, yeah?"

"Oh, you're a bit tipsy?"

She holds up her index finger and thumb pad-to-pad, squinting and crinkling her nose. "Little bit."

"You, Rose Tyler," he says, poking the tip of her nose, "are lying. You're well on your way to being sloshed, you are."

"Yeah? Not alone in that, though, am I?"

The Doctor makes a half-hearted noise and takes a sip of his drink. "I think you just might be."

"Nah." Shareen points at herself. "I'm right there with ya, Rose."

"You know what I think?" Mickey says. "I think we should play a game. Make this evening a bit more interesting. How about Flip, Strip, or Sip?"

The Doctor adjusts his tie. "I'm not playing anything with the word 'strip' in it. Especially not when Shareen's on board."

"Said the man with the most layers of everyone in here." Shareen snorts. "How about Truth or Dare, then? Yeah? No one protests? Good. Let's play that. I'll go first. Rose?"

Mickey gets up from his armchair. "If we're doing this I'm not having any more of that rum. I'm heading to the galley to get some beer. Anyone else?"

"Now, hold on, Mickety-Mick. Why would you need beer to play Truth and Dare?" the Doctor asks.

"The way I like to play it, yeah," Shareen says, "is if you chicken out and don't wanna do the dare or answer the question, you have to drink. And if you keep saying no several times in a row, you have to drink more, 'cause this is no fun if someone just chooses to drink all the time, you know what I mean? You don't really get to the good stuff, then, do you?"

"I see." The Doctor tuts. "You're a weakling, Mickey. It's pitiful, really. And why are we playing this game anyway? Can't say I see the point in it."

"Oh? You're scared you won't be able to handle what we throw at you? That you'll have to drink so much you pass out, eh?"

The Doctor snorts. "I once had an entire bottle of the strongest vodka in the universe. I think I can handle a bit of rum."

"Ugh, who cares. You blokes can take your pissing contest elsewhere, yeah?" Shareen rolls her eyes. "I'm sticking to rum. It's the tastiest bloody drink I've ever had."

"I know!" The Doctor beams. "I perfected this recipe centuries ago. Best hot buttered rum there is. I'll let you in on the secret, since you can't do anything about it anyway. Well, unless I take you to the Yarmi galaxy in the 78th century, but that's not very likely. Anyway, the rum–"

Shareen interrupts him by letting out a loud, exaggerated yawn, stretching her arms up in the air. "Rose. Truth or dare?"

"No-no. Don't start without me," Mickey says. "I'll be quicker than a– EEEEEEK!" He jumped back when a cool box full of beer bottles materialised right at his feet. "God, I'll never get used to that."

"Bloody hell!" Shareen stares at the cool box, clutching the armrests of her chair. "You weren't kidding when you said this ship's alive! Does that happen often, then?"

"When she's in a good mood," the Doctor says.

"I think it wants us to play this game, isn't that right, little ship?" Shareen leans down and pats the floor. "So, Rose, what will it be?"

"Oh. Truth, I suppose."

Shareen looks at Rose through her lashes and waggles her gift. "How often to you mast-ur-bate."

"Oi! That's not the… Look. You start slow and let it escalate naturally. That's the way this game works. I'm not drunk enough to answer that."

"God, you're boring. If you don't wanna answer, just drink your drink, then." Shareen snickers. "Gonna ask you again later, anyway."

Rose grabbed her mug and took a mouthful. "Mickey."

"Truth."

"Who gave you your first kiss."

"No. No way. You're playing it dirty, Rose. I'll just drink." He takes a beer, removes the cap and takes a swig. "Boss. Unless you're too chicken to play."

"I most certainly am not! I've stared down the magnificent beast of Markapla–"

"Yeah-yeah. Whatever. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Take off your suit jacket."

"What?!"

"Take it off."

The Doctor arches an eyebrow and slips out of his suit jacket, folding it over the backrest of the sofa. "Rose?"

"Truth."

"How mad would you be if, say," he tugs at his ear, "your best mate might've forgotten to buy you a Christmas gift?"

She chuckles. "Hadn't expected him to get me anything, so I wouldn't be mad at all."

Shareen hops up on her feet and whacks him on the arm. "You didn't get her a gift, you git?"

He pouts, rubbing the spot she hit. "I thought it was just another visit to her mother, and then we stepped out of the TARDIS, and there it was: Christmas. Everywhere! Decorations as far as the eye could see."

"You had no idea you'd arrive on Christmas Eve? How's that even possible?"

"He's very daft," Rose says, grinning. "Luckily, I bought gifts for you, Mickey, and mum months ago. Just had to wrap 'em." She leans her head on the Doctor's shoulder. "I don't mind, Doctor. I got everything I could wish for, all right? So… My turn, yeah? Shareen."

"Dare."

"'Kay. I dare you to...pinch Mickey's bum."

"Oooh, it's your lucky day, Shareen." Mickey gets up on his feet and bends over a tad, wiggling his bum in her face. She shoots off a wicked grin and gives him a pinch so hard he springs away from her. "Ow! What the hell, woman?!"

"She's a rather violent sort, isn't she?" the Doctor asks.

"Yeah, what of it?" Shareen challenges him with a pointed look and a cock of her head. "I'll ask you, then, Doctor."

"Eeehm… Truth?"

She arches an eyebrow. "Which part of Rose's body d'you like the best?"

"Her brain. Mickey?"

"Oh, c'mon." Shareen rolls her eyes. "You know what I meant!"

"Well, I'd say her heart, but the actual organ isn't responsible for her compassion in the least. It's all in the brain. A very brilliant brain, I might add," he says, smiling at Rose in that way that makes her heart flip. "And her brain is a part of her body. So, there. Mickey?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to...prank call the Queen. I have the number and I can make sure it won't be traced," he says, wiggling his sonic in front of Mickey.

"Nuh-uh. No way." Mickey takes several gulps of his beer. "Rose?"

"Truth."

"Did you ever do anything with Jumping Jack Flash?"

"Uhm… I…" she says, playing with her earring and staring at Mickey's beer. "What d'you mean 'anything'?"

"I mean snogging, blow job, shagging, erotic massage, peck on the lips, striptease or whatever of that sort."

"No. You gotta choose one."

Mickey takes a pull of his beer and scratches his chin as he thinks. "All right. Did you ever exchange bodily fluids with Jack?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"What?!" The Doctor gawks at her. "When? What? Wh-wh-wh. What?! When? Wait, is this about the peck he gave you?"

"No. You'll have to wait until your turn, Doctor. I'm not giving away information for free."

"But… Can you at least tell me where?"

"Nope. Shareen?"

"Truth."

"How many blokes have you shagged?"

"Eighteen and a half. One barely got in there so I'm not sure if I should count him or not." She holds up her hands a few inches apart, snickering. "Like a gherkin, he was. Short and fat. Doctor?"

"What?"

"Stop staring at Rose, yeah, and tell me truth or dare."

"I wasn't–" He huffs. "Dare."

"Take off your shirt."

"Really? You in cahoots with Thickety-thick-Mick, then?" He harrumphs. "All right, but I'm keeping the tie on." After rolling up his collar and tugging up his tie, he slips the buttons through the holes, shrugs off his shirt, and hangs it over the jacket. "Rose."

"Dare."

"What? No, you're supposed to– Right." He narrows his eyes, sipping on his drink. "I dare you to tell me what kind of bodily fluids you exchanged with Jack."

Rose chuckles. "That's against the rules."

"I'll allow it," Shareen says, waving her hand.

"All right. Saliva. We snogged once. We were on a planet where women weren't allowed to walk around freely, right, and you were held up somewhere and we ran into some lawmen on our way back to the TARDIS. So we had to fake a relationship."

The Doctor breathed out an 'oh' and downed the rest his hot buttered rum. "Shareen," he says, pouring more into their cups.

Rose nudges him with her elbow. "It's my turn, Doctor."

He gives her a sheepish grin. "Right. Sorry."

"Anyway… Mickey."

"Truth."

"Who was your first kiss again?" she says, tapping her chin.

"Rose, I swear to god." Mickey finishes his bottle and leans back with a burp. "Boss."

"Charming. Hm…" He regards Mickey for a moment. "Dare."

"Plait Rose's hair."

"Gladly! Rose, turn your back to me, please."

She pulls up both legs as she turns around, sitting criss-cross, and gasps when the Doctor grabs her hips and tugs her closer.

"There," he says, combing his fingers through her hair. "Any preferences?"

"Nah." She closes her eyes and sighs with contentment. "Surprise me."

Mickey and Shareen chat about something, but their voices turn into a soft murmur as Rose focuses on the feeling of the Doctor's fingers in her hair, how they brush against her ears and neck as he works. She shivers, over and over, skin prickling in pleasure, and relaxes so much she nearly jumps out of her seat when she hears him whisper in her ear.

"All done."

She pouts. "Already?"

"What, did you enjoy it?" he asks, warm breath tickling her.

"Yeah, it's… Yeah."

"Well," he says, resting his chin on her shoulder, "if you're a very good companion, I might do it again."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe…"

"That looks wicked, Rose. Gotta hand it to your alien. He might be daft, but he has clever fingers." Shareen grins. "I wonder what else those clever fi–"

"Cheers!" Rose touches her hair, following the intricate 'do with her fingers. "What did you do, Doctor?"

"It's the traditional hairstyle for young women on Orpkoob. You have several tiny french plaits running from your temples and behind your ears to the back of your head," he says, running his fingers over them. "And then you have a big one going from your forehead to the crown of your head, where they all meet and are joined into one big plait."

"I'm not sure I can picture that." She laughs and turns around to face him. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," he says with a soft smile and she smiles back, blushing. Then the sparkling in his eyes clears and he shrugs. "Suits you. Anyway, truth or dare, Rose?"

"Truth."

"With whom," he says, emphasising the last word, "did Rickey Smith share his first kiss."

"No! No, no, no. No, Rose. You're not telling him, you're not. Drink!"

"So it was New Year's, right, and Mick–"

"You shut your mouth, Rose!"

"Oi!" The Doctor frowns at him. "Don't talk to her like that. Now, Rose, please continue your very fascinating tale."

"Rose, please..."

"Oh, all right. I'll drink," she says, sipping on her hot buttered rum. "Shareen."

"Dare."

"Uhm… Oh, dunno. Cartwheel around the library."

"D'you want me to kill myself, then?" Shareen asks and drinks. "Mickey."

"Uhm… Dare."

"I dare you to…take off the Doctor's t-shirt."

"What?! Is that even allowed?" the Doctor asks.

Shareen nods. "Yeah, I'll allow it."

"Of course you'd allow it. You're the one who said it!"

"Yeah. I'm also the one who suggested the game. But all right. I'm not unreasobable-unreaso… Unreasonable! Mickey, take off his chucks."

"You do understand that you're asking a black man to kneel in front of a Lord and remove his shoes, Shareen?" Mickey asks and she ducks her head. "I'll take off my own shoes instead," he says, kicking them off. "Rose."

"Truth."

"How often do you masturbate, babe?"

"Yes! Good one." Shareen reaches over to Mickey and holds her hand up for a high-five, grinning as he gives her one. "Gonna answer now, then, Rose? If not you're gonna have to empty your mug, yeah?"

"I'll answer," Rose says, tilting her chin up. "Nothing wrong with masturbating. I do it every day, as a matter of fact. Before I go to sleep, usually."

"With toys?" Shareen asks.

"Yeah, sometimes with toys."

"Plural?" The Doctor snaps his mouth shut, ears tinted pink. "I mean. Ehm. You-you– What? No. That wasn't–"

"Yeah. Plural. I have a whole collection. Jack brought me to this sex shop once on Florinzo–"

"He did what?"

"Oh, relax, Doctor. He was gonna buy stuff for himself and wanted company and, dunno, I just ended up buying a lot of stuff myself."

"Oooh. I always wondered what happened to all those credits…" The Doctor gets a faraway look in his eyes before they widen and he clears his throat, blinking a few times. "Eer, I… Where were we?"

"It's Rose's turn," Mickey says, laughing.

"Oh, yeah. Doctor. Truth or dare?"

"Me?" he asks and she nods. "Eeeer…" He glances down his body before shooting the others suspicious glances. "Truth?"

"How did you lose your virginity?"

"Virginity is an archaic concept, Rose. The word 'virgin' initially just meant unmarried woman and we all know women have sex regardless. And, even if it didn't, have you ever considered how many sexual orientations and alien species are excluded by that term?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. Didn't think of that. I'll rephrase my question, then. Uhm… Tell me about your first intense sexual experience with another lifeform." She smirks and waggles her eyebrows. "Is that better?"

"Much. And...not a chance." He grins when she makes a sound of disappointment, and guzzles down his drink. "Mickey?"

"Dare. No truth! No dare. No! Ugh– You're just gonna find a way to make me tell you about the kiss, aren't you?"

"Well… Tell you what. If I can correctly guess who it is, you'll have to tell us the story. If I guess wrong, I'll...take off my trousers. You seem to be intent on seeing me naked, so…"

"There's no way you'll gue–"

"Jackie Tyler!"

Mickey squeaks, mouth opening and closing. He glares at Rose. "You told him?"

"No! I've not said a word."

"Oooh, I knew it! You seem to forget, Mickey Smith, that we don't share that many acquaintances. Wasn't too difficult to put two and two together. But how, exactly, did it happen, hm?"

Mickey sighs, shoulders slumping. "You tell 'em, Rose."

"Okay. Was New Year's when he was sixteen. He was a bit pissed, right, and sad 'cause he didn't have a date. So mum took pity on him and kissed him at midnight. Was just gonna be a peck on the lips, but Mickey got over-eager and thrust his tongue into her mouth!" Rose giggles. "Oh, theslap she gave you."

"Was deaf for days, I was."

"He didn't come around for weeks. But then mum got tired of it and more or less dragged him to the flat by the skin of his neck."

"Ha!" Shareen says. "No wonder he cowered after the first time he kissed you, then."

The Doctor's face splits into a delighted grin. "He did?"

Mickey glares at Rose. "You told her about that?"

"I tell Shareen everything!"

"He jumped off her and crouched down in the corner of the room, doing this," Shareen says, covering her face with her arms.

The Doctor nods. "Sounds like Mickey."

"That's not–" Mickey grumbles under his breath, shooting daggers on all three of them. "I shied away a little, all right? That's all."

The Doctor chortles, swirling his drink around before taking a mouthful.

"Doctor," Mickey says, voice close to growling.

"Eeer…" The Doctor runs his fingers through his hair. "Truth?"

"What went through your head when Cassandra used Rose's body to kiss you?"

The Doctor's jaw drops and he blinks a few times before turning to Rose. "You're quite the blabber mouth!"

"How could I not tell someone about that? I've never been possessed before! And back then Shareen didn't know about the TARDIS. I couldn't have told her that. And would you have preferred I tell my mum, then?"

The Doctor blanches and shakes his head. "Weeell... I knew something was wrong, 'cause Rose wasn't acting like herself. I didn't know what, however, so I just played along until more information arose."

Mickey sniggers. "Bet it wasn't the only thing that arose."

"Nah, I don't even think he has one," Shareen says. "He's alien. Who knows what goes on in his nether regions."

"What?! I have...equipment."

"Yeah? Equipment?" Shareen bursts out in a fit of giggles. "What's it look like, then?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Oh, c'mon. You can tell me. You don't have to describe yours. Just, you know, your average Time Lordian willy. I bet you know what a human willy looks like, yeah? Is it similar?"

The Doctor frowns at her and refills his cup.

"Rose, then? Can you tell us?"

"How should I know?"

"What? You're telling me…" Shareen's jaw drops. "All this time and you two've never? Oh, no wonder you have this big collection of toys from the future and have to rub one off every day!"

"Uhm, I just said that I tell you everything. Don't you think I would've told you?"

"No. Reckoned… Well, I just found out about the TARDIS and him being an alien after the Daleks and Cybermen and all. And you two are always so sec-secretive." Shareen shakes her head. "So, you've never even, you know, felt something? I've seen you two, with the hugs and sometimes you sit in his lap and…" Her eyes widen and she sucks in a sharp breath. "What if it's sentient! Like the ship!"

"Shareen, c'mon. That's just…" Rose scrunched up her face, looking at the Doctor. "It's not sentient, is it?"

"Of course not! I can't believe this is actually a topic of conversation!" He takes a swig of his drink and mutters under his breath, "Bloody humans and their fascination with sex."

"You're alien! 'Course we wanna know what you're packing. Right, Rose?"

"Uhm… Never really thought about it."

"What?!" The Doctor stiffens, ears turning red as firetrucks. "No, I, ehm. That's good. Good! 'Cause it's none of your business. Either of you. Or yours, for that matter. Mickey! Truth or dare?"

"I've just always assumed he'd look human, yeah?" Rose turns to the Doctor. "'Cause you look human, Doctor. At least on the outside."

"No. You lot look Gallifreyan."

"See," she says, gesturing at him and looking at Shareen. "He looks human down there. There won't be any weird stuff."

Mickey grins. "Won't be?"

"What?"

"You said 'won't be'? When won't there be any weird stuff?"

"Uhm…"

"'Cause I would've said 'there isn't'. Won't be, on the other hand, implies that–"

"Why are we playing this game again?" The Doctor pulls at the tie around his neck. "Blimey, I must've been quite inebriated to agree to this. Maybe we should just...do something else? Uno, perhaps? Monopoly? Did you know that I actually have a custom-made TARDIS edition? All the squares are rooms on board the–"

"Well, if you wanna chicken out, boss. I'm sure we can play one of your little family games."

The Doctor blinks at him before scowling. "Mickey. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Take off your shirt."

Mickey gives him a challenging stare and starts unbuttoning it, removing it and hanging it over the backrest of his armchair with flourish.

Shareen covers her mouth with her hand and stage whispers to Rose. "D'you think this evening will end up with them two doing the dirty?"

Mickey shoots Shareen a quick dirty look before boring his eyes into the Doctor. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

Mickey shoots off a smug grin. "Take off your t shirt."

"Oh, you wanna see me in the nude, Mickey Smith?"

"Nah. Reckon the ladies do, though. Ain't it so, ladies?"

Rose strokes the Doctor's arm. "Don't mind him. He's just trying to rile you up."

The Doctor narrows his eyes at Mickey and moves his hand towards his mug.

"Ooooh? You too scared of showing off your scrawny chest, then? If I'm the tin dog, and she's the Bad Wolf, you're just a scared little puppy."

"Very well. If you want to see my impressive Gallifreyan body so badly..." The Doctor pulls it over his head, tosses it at the floor and sniffs, smoothing out his tie over his bare chest. "Mickey."

"Dare."

The Doctor closes his eyes with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips and a few seconds later a box appears next to the armchair Mickey's sitting in. "Wear that."

Mickey takes a peek inside and shakes his head. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm serious. Go on."

Mickey chuckles, gets up and removes his trousers before picking up a large, pink frilly skirt and a blond pigtail wig and putting them on. "How do I look?" he asks, flinging one pigtail over his shoulder and twirling.

"Perfect." The Doctor nods. "Just as I imagined you in that freezer full of dead rats."

"Gorgeous," Rose says and Shareen hums and winks.

"Yeah, with legs like these," Mickey says, head held high, "I could pull anything off. Unlike twig legs over there."

"Oi! I have fantastic legs. Quite the muscle tone and good for running and–" The Doctor slings his arm around Rose. "You tell him, Rose."

"Uhm…" She laughs. "He does, actually. I've seen him in swim trunks." She leans in to whisper in his ear, "Don't let Mickey get to you, Doctor. He just loves teasing you, all right? We can stop playing, if you want. I think that TARDIS monopoly sounds fun."

"Hmpf. Mickey is most certainly not getting to me," the Doctor says, taking another mouthful. "I'm having a brilliant time."

"If you two have stopped whispering, shall we go on with it?"

"Of course, Mickey. Carry on!"

* * *

**tbc**


	2. Tactics

**beta**: resile

* * *

**QUESTIONS, DARES AND DEFLECTIONS  
**_Chapter 2 - Tactics_

* * *

"Shareen, truth or dare," Mickey says.

"Dare."

"Uhm… Oh, I know. Tickle Rose until she cries for mercy."

"What? No!" Rose looks around after something to throw at him, eyes landing on a bottle cap on the table. She grabs it and takes aim, hitting him on his ear. "I'm not going along with that, I'm not."

"You're lucky that didn't hurt, 'cause I would've tickled you myself and you know I don't stop until you–"

"Yeah, all right, all right!" Rose clears her throat and shifts in her seat. "I'm ready, Shareen."

"Are you sure, Rose." Mickey snickers. "Don't want me to go fetch–"

"Yes! Yes, I'm sure."

"And, Rose? I'll know if you give up too soon and I'll–"

"How is this a dare for Shareen? You're placing all the pressure on Rose."

"It's okay, Doctor." Rose glares at Mickey, nostrils flaring. "I'm ready."

"Okay, here I come, then," Shareen says, wriggling her fingers as she moves from the armchair over to the sofa.

Rose lets out a forced chuckle, tightening her fists and steeling herself for the onslaught. Cackling, Shareen throws herself at Rose and runs her fingers over her ribs, finding every little spot that sends Rose into a fit of giggles. She squirms in her seat, trying to move away from her friend, and collapses against the Doctor. Her head slides from his chest down to his lap and she kicks her legs, flails her arms, whole body wiggling as the merciless Shareen increases the speed of her attack.

Rose laughs so hard that a pressure starts building on her bladder, and she screams out for mercy. Shareen gives her a final pinch and pulls away–and Rose stills enough for it to sink in _where_ she is lying.

She feels the rough cotton of the Doctor's trousers against her cheek, the soft, warm skin of his abdomen against her forehead. She swallows and open her eyes, turning her head until the back rests in his lap. He's looking down at her with such a heated gaze a thrill runs through her body, swooping in her stomach and landing between her legs. He's _never_ looked at her like that before. She holds her breath, waiting for _something_, but his dark eyes brighten and his lax jaw muscles tense up as he breaks the gaze and looks at the others. She inhales through her nose and sits up, eyes flitting around to find a distraction, and the door to her loo pops up in the wall.

"Oh, my god, Shareen!" Rose jumps up on her feet, smoothing out her dress as she squeezes herself between the sofa and the table. "D'you know how badly I need to wee now?"

"I think I can guess," Mickey says with a laugh. "Looked like you forgot there for a second, though, didn't it?"

She rushes to the door and locks herself inside, mumbling thanks to the time ship for being such a sweetheart. Wiggling her dress and slip up her hips, to her waist, and tugging down her knickers, she sits down on the toilet, relaxes, and empties herself of hours worth of drinks.

"Bloody hot buttered rum and–" She growls. "_Mickey_."

She wipes, makes herself decent and washes her hands, inspecting her reflection in the mirror hanging over the sink. The alcohol has left her face flushed and eyes shiny, and some of her mascara has smudged. She touches up her makeup before heading towards the door, doing a double-take when she catches sight of the plaits snaking around her head. She detangles them with quick fingers, fluffing up her curls into a tousled 'do and giving herself a final once-over.

Her eyes lingers at the six buttons in the front of her dress; six tiny buttons leading from the top of her cleavage to the empire waistline. Biting her lip, she debates with herself for a few seconds. She _has_ caught him looking–not often, but she has–and that heat in his eyes earlier… She snatches the two top buttons off and slides in her hand, pushing up her tits with determination and giving her reflection an encouraging wink.

She steps back outside and hurries back to the sofa, smiling to the others. Mickey follows her with his eyes, taking in her hair and cleavage, and grins. She scowls at him.

"You took your time," he says.

"I've had a lot to drink." She sits down next to the Doctor, a lot closer than she needs to, and takes a pull of her drink. "Shareen's turn, yeah?"

"What happened to your buttons, then?" Mickey asks.

"What?" She looks down at her dress. "Oh. Must've been torn off when Shareen tickled me."

Mickey snorts out a laugh. "Yeah, I bet."

"I'm so sorry, Rose. I'll sew them back in." Shareen scoots off the armchair and crawls around on the floor, searching for the buttons. "Just gotta find the little buggers."

"Oh, my god. Sit up, Shareen. I don't care about those buttons. Let's just play the game."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

The Doctor curls some of Rose's hair around his finger. "You didn't like them."

"What?" she says, turning to him and resisting the urge to shoot some more daggers at the sniggering Mickey. "Oh, the plaits…" She closes her eyes, groaning on the inside. "No, I _loved_ them, but my head hurts when I wear plaits for too long."

"Oh, yeah? I didn't know that," Mickey says, smirking.

"Nor did I." The Doctor knits his brow, touching the side of her head. "Where does it hurt?"

"It's fine now. Don't worry."

She smiles at him and leans her cheek on his shoulder for a moment. Just as she pulls away, he wraps his arm around her and holds her close.

"Are you tired?" he asks, voice soft.

"No. I'm having a blast. Let's play. Shareen?"

"Oh, right! Rose," Shareen says, hiding a burp behind her hand and squinting when she looks at her friend. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What was going on between you and Mickey just now?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I might be a bit pissed, yeah, but I'm not thick, Rose." Shareen cocks her head and leans back in her chair, lips pursed. "There's a story here. I can smell it."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not gonna tell it."

"Oh!" The Doctor nuzzles Rose's hair. "It rhymed."

Rose's eyes widen, meeting Mickey's across the table. He sits with his leg slung over the armrest of his chair, one hand resting in his lap and weighing down the frilly skirt. He's grinning at her, a real shit-eating grin that transforms into a mocking simper for a second, before splitting back into that smug expression. She narrows her eyes at him and straightens her back, reaching for her mug and taking a large mouthful.

"So, how drunk are you, then, Doctor?" Mickey asks.

"Does it matter?"

"Just curious. Thought you bragged about having an entire bottle of some super strong vodka, once, but you seem pretty pissed to me after just a little rum."

"Well, I can metabolise the alcohol in my body in under five minutes if I need to, so I can get as 'pissed'," the Doctor says, over-enunciating the word, "as I like and still sober up without a hangover whenever I feel like it."

Mickey folds his arms over his chest and leans his head back. "Yeah? Then I dare you to take this like a human. Take being pissed and hungover–without complaining–"

Rose rolls her eyes with a small shake of her head. "It's not your turn to dare someone, Mickey."

"And no cheating with Time Lord tricks. Can you do that, then? Are you _that_ impressive, boss?"

The Doctor reaches over the table, proffering Mickey his hand, and they shake on it. "I'll be up first and have breakfast prepared and all. You just wait and see, Mickey Smith."

Mickey sits back in his chair, legs wide apart, smirking. "Looking forward to it."

Rose huffs out a breath and, keeping her eye on Mickey, asks, "Doctor. Truth or dare."

"Truth."

"Uhm… Uh, maybe–"

"Oh, I know! I definitely know something. Ask him if he shagged–" Mickey shuts his mouth when Rose fires off a scalding glare, and he clears his throat, looking as though he tries to shake off his buzz by blinking a few times and improving his posture.

The Doctor furrows his brow. "If I what?!"

"Cleopatra." Rose rubs her neck, right under her ear, then finds a lock of hair to fidget. "He's wanted to know that for ages. Right, Mickey?"

"Yeah. Tell us all about when you shagged Cleo, Doctor. We'd love to know."

"Oh. I didn't." The Doctor empties his cup and slides his arm off Rose, hand running across her back as he stands up. "Rum's all drunk up! I'm making more. Be back in a jiffy. And," he says, fishing his sonic out of his trouser pocket, twirling it between his fingers, "I mean a jiffy. With the sonic I can actually–"

"No one cares, mate," Shareen says. "All we care about is getting more rum, yeah? So move your pretty little bum– Hold on. Is it pretty, though? We've not got him out of those naff trousers yet."

"Oi!" The Doctor pouts and gestures at his legs. "What's wrong with these?"

"Don't you ever wear jeans or something like a normal bloke?"

"No. Why would I do that that? I look good in these."

"Those trousers would look better in the rubbish bin, to be honest. Just take 'em off."

The Doctor considers her for a second before placing one hand on Rose's shoulder, leaning in and asking, "Is she hitting on me?"

"'Course I'm not, you plonker. I'd never do that to R-an alien," Shareen says, eyes wide and unblinking. "I'd never bonk an alien. Eugh! Aliens are nasty! Now, go on and make that bloody rum!"

The Doctor sniffs. "Yeah, well, so's you lot. And you're all aliens to me. Ever considered that, hm? No? Didn't think so."

Rose watches him grab the pitcher and head through a brand new door in one of the walls. As soon as it closes, she bores her eyes into Mickey, pointing at him.

"You shut the hell up."

"Why?"

"You know why. And shut the hell up about Reinette as well."

"Yeah, all right. I won't ask him about that. But you told my embarrassing story, Rose. Now it's my turn to have some fun."

"It's not the same."

"You've laughed about this before, you have. I know why you don't want him to know." Mickey cocks an eyebrow. "I know exactly why. Shareen didn't ruin your dress. And that hair? Ha! You're not very subtle, are you, Rose?"

She swallowed, averting her eyes and pressing her lips together.

"Oh, shut it, Mickey." Shareen smiles and nods at Rose. "You should see him. Can't take his eyes off you, your Doctor. And he stares at your tits when he thinks you're not looking. It's working."

"I'm not doing anything." Rose tosses her hair back over her shoulder and takes a drink to hide her content grin. "And the Doctor and me are just mates."

"Yeah, _mating_ mates," Shareen says, penetrating a circle of her thumb and index-finger with her other index-finger.

"You two better stop it. I mean it. Don't talk like this when he's in here."

"Don't worry. We're not gonna scare him off. Are we, Micks?"

Mickey opens his mouth to reply, but splits into a smile when the Doctor re-enters the room with a pitcher of steaming hot buttered rum. He places it on the table and plops down on the sofa, adjusting his tie over his bare chest and putting his arm around Rose, pulling her a little closer.

"Now, where were we? My turn, right? Hm… Mickey?"

"Truth," Mickey says, ignoring Rose mouthing 'dare'.

"What was going on between you and Rose earlier, then? There's a story there." The Doctor winks at Rose. "I can tell."

"Oh, there is, and I'm gonna tell it."

"No, you're not, Mickey. If you do I'll–"

"She pissed herself!"

"Mickey!"

He barks out a laugh and Rose thrusts forward, hands gripping the edge of the table to keep her balance as she does her best to shoot him down with a murderous scowl. The Doctor's arm falls off her and lands on the sofa cushion behind her bum, but she barely notices.

He chuckles. "She what?"

"I tickled her and she laughed so hard she pissed herself, she did."

"Shut up!"

"And not just a little. Once she lost control, yeah, it just all–"

"You stop talking, Mickey Smith!"

"It just flowed out of her. Like Niagara's golden falls." Mickey snickers. "She laughed too much, yeah, so she couldn't even get up on her feet to get to the loo. I had to buy a new mattress and all."

"Oh, I swear to god, Mickey, I'm gonna _kill_ you."

"Mickey, I think I need a word with you." The Doctor gives him a stern look and Mickey stiffens, gleeful giggle caught in his throat.

Rose sits back down, stomach swooping when she feels the Doctor's fingers curl around her hip.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner, Mickety-Mick?" the Doctor asks, breaking out in a grin. "Had I known I would've started bringing adult diapers in my-my bigger-on-the-inside pockets! Sometimes we go quite long without being able to take a loo break. I'm amazed there's not been an accident yet. Well done, Rose."

He squeezes her hip and she plucks his hand off her body, dropping it behind her; the Doctor doesn't notice and keeps talking, slurring a bit.

"Oh, and I will do my absolute best to not be so funny all the time, of course. Mind you, it will be hard. I am utterly _hilarious_. I can make Rose giggle like the best of them. Isn't that right, Rose?" He turns towards her, but as he meets her eye, sees her glowering at him, his complacent smile fades into a rather sheepish expression. "Sorry."

Rose shuts him out by turning her head and scooting away from him.

"Rose, I'm sorry," he says, moving after her. He touches her shoulder with light fingers. "Rose, please. Don't be mad. I'm sorry."

"Yeah? Then you can be sorry on your end of the sofa."

"But–"

She pulls a disgusted face and brushes his fingers off her body with her hand. "It's your turn, Mickey, yeah?"

"No, Rose, please."

The Doctor slides down on the floor and shuffles on his knees until he can met her eye. His look glossy, cheeks flushed, forehead a little shiny from perspiration. He gives her his best puppy dog eyes, smiles, and tilts his head back and forth, looking silly. Hers swims, as though she poured the hot buttered rum directly into her skull and her brain now bobs in a sea of spicy liquid. She scrunches up her nose at the mental picture and the Doctor's face falls, shoulders dropping. His Adam's apple bobs and he ducks his head with a few slow nods.

"I don't care, Rose. I still–" He sighs. "You're a brilliant woman and-and companion and... Those things happen. Can happen to anyone, hm?" He puts his hand on her knee, brushing his thumb over her skin; she suppresses a content shudder. "Mickey dribbled a bit in his pants when we met the Krillitanes, for one."

"No, I didn't!" Mickey shouts, voice high-pitched.

"He did. Not enough to stain his trousers, but I could smell it." The Doctor taps his nose and smiles. "I'm very impressive, remember. And I'll have you know that it happens quite a lot to people we meet on our travels. Never to you, though. Not to my brave Rose."

"I'm brave, too!"

"Yes, Mickey," the Doctor says, tone curt. "You're very brave, but you still pissed yourself. Anyway, Rose I'm–"

"Oh, I forgive you."

She tilts his head up by putting her fingers under his chin and presses a kiss to his cheek, so close to the corner of his mouth she can hear his breath hitch. When she pulls back, she finds him staring up at her with open, warm eyes that sets her heart soaring, but the sparkling stops and he closes himself off a second later. He gives her a friendly smile and hops up in the sofa, not without some effort and he nearly clonks their heads together, but in the end lands right next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as though it belongs there.

"Shareen," Mickey says, head held high. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Take off your bra, under your top, and pull it through the armhole of your top in under thirty seconds. The Time Lord can keep time, yeah? Or are you too drunk?"

"Psch. I'm just a bit squiffy." The Doctor dismisses Mickey with a wave. "And, yes, I can keep time. You ready, Shareen? Go!"

Shareen makes a valiant effort, struggling with straps and short sleeves, nearly flashing the others in the process, and ends up falling out of the armchair after twenty seconds to a hearty laugh from the rest of them. She grumbles good-naturedly and pulls herself up in her seat again, grabbing the pitcher and pouring more of the drink into her mug.

"That was bloody impossible. I give up." She takes a sip and licks her lips with a smile. "Rose. Truth or dare?"

"Uhm… Dare."

Shareen waggles her eyebrows. "Show us your toy collection."

"Oh, god, no."

"How drunk do you have to be for that, then?"

"There's not enough alcohol in the universe." Rose empties her mug and puts her hand over it when the Doctor moves to fill it up. "No, ta. Mickey? Can you hand me a beer, thanks? Reckon I better lay off on the rum for the evening."

"But!" The Doctor pouts. "You said you liked my hot rubbered bum."

She grins at him, tongue poking out between her teeth. "Don't think I've ever seen your bum in rubber, Doctor."

"My what?" he asks, voice squeaky, ears burning red.

"Ooh! There's an idea for a dare, though!" Mickey says, tossing her a beer bottle that flies right by her head and lands on the sofa cushion next to her.

She stares at it for a second, mind trying to catch up, then shrugs and picks it up. "Cheers! Doctor?"

"Eeer. Truth?"

"Uhm… What colour pants are you wearing?"

"Oh, c'mon!" Shareen rolls her eyes. "That's such a boring question, Rose. I know there's loads of stuff you wanna know. Since I'm the judge and, uhm, rule maker and all those things I decide that I get to ask him something. So, Doctor," she says, leering at him, "how often do you use that equipment of yours in the privacy of your own bedroom? And, if that was too _hard_ for you to understand, I meant: how often do you wank?"

His eyes widen and his fingers wrap around the ear of his cup, bringing his drink to his mouth and covering most of his face as he downs it; though, Rose can see the flush on his cheek deepening and spreading down to his chest. She grins.

"You know," Mickey says, chuckling. "Your reaction speaks for itself, it does."

The Doctor clears his throat. "Mickey."

"Truth."

"What happened the first time I asked you on board?"

"You know what? I'm comfortable enough in my own skin by now to admit that I said no and pretended in front of Rose like you didn't want me to come."

"What? Is that true?" Rose asks the Doctor.

"Yep. 'This life of yours, it's just too much. I couldn't do it. Don't tell her I said that,' is what he said."

"And you never did," Rose says. "And Mickey's braver now. Freelances for UNIT and all. And very rarely pisses himself." She and the Doctor lean their heads together, sniggering. "So, your turn, Mickey."

"Shareen."

"Truth."

"Confess your deepest, darkest secret."

"Never!" She takes several large gulps of her drink. "Rose!"

"Dare."

Shareen winks. "Take off your dress."

The Doctor's arm tightens around Rose. "You don't have to do that. Shareen, choose another dare."

"I know I don't _have_ to," Rose says, sliding out of his hold and standing up. "But I knew the rules when I joined the game, and I know how Shareen likes to play it. And I don't want to get so pissed I'll throw up all over my gifts tomorrow when we go to mum."

"We have a time machine, Rose. We can go whenever you feel better. You don't–"

His voice dies when Rose grabs the hem of her dress and wiggles her way out of it, throwing it at the sofa and holding her arms out. "Tadaaa!"

"Oh…" The Doctor breathes out, grinning. "You're wearing a-a under...thing."

"A slip, yeah," she says, sitting down beside him and smiling when he puts his arm back around her shoulders.

Her stomach flips when she sees his eyes lingering on her thigh. She crosses her legs and doesn't bother tugging down the skirt when it moves up higher and shows off more of her skin. Helped by the liquid courage buzzing in her, she places her hand on _his_ thigh and leans over him to grab the pitcher of rum. He sucks in a breath and she struggles to keep her expression neutral as she pours her mug full, brushing her thumb over his leg once, then leans over him again to put the pitcher back. Without looking at him, she sits back in her spot and rests both hands in her lap as she waits for the game to continue.

"Rose?"

"Yes, Mickey?"

"It's your turn to ask someone. But maybe you're too busy prete–"

"Mickey! Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Uhm… Kiss Shareen."

"That all right with you?" he asks and Shareen giggles, closing her eyes and leaning in. Mickey cups her cheeks and presses his lips to hers, releasing her with a loud 'mwah' when he pulls back. "Doctor."

"Eeer… Dare."

Mickey's face split into a mischievous grin. "Lick Rose from her collarbone up to her ear."

The Doctor blinks at Mickey. "Sorry? You want me to _what_?"

"Lick Rose from her collarbone up to her ear."

"With my _tongue_?"

"S'what you usually licks things with, eh?" Mickey shrugs, grinning. "And don't blame me. You're the one who wanted to play Truth or Dare rather than Flip, Strip, or Sip, boss. Not that _that_ meant anything. You two are practically naked anyway."

"But…" The Doctor glances at Rose. She busies herself by reading the label on her beer bottle, heat prickling her cheeks. He grabs his cup of hot buttered rum and empties it without hesitation, smacking his lips before wiping them with the back of his hand. "My turn? Hm… Shareen."

"Yeah, s'me," Shareen mumbles, swaying in the chair. "Bring it on. Truth, dare, don't much matter to me."

"Right. Ehm… How many times have you shoplifted?"

"Shoplifted too many times to remember. I'll just drink," she says, taking a swig. "Rose."

"Uhm. Truth?"

"Would you've allowed the Doctor to lick your neck?"

"Uh…" His arm feels hot and heavy across Rose's shoulders and her skin tingles as her blush deepens. She shrugs. "I suppose. S'just my neck. S'not like it's… Yeah, I would've," she says and his arm stiffens for the briefest moment before going lax again. "Mickey? Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he says, watching her with knowing eyes and she fights the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"Take a picture of yourself and send it to your boss."

Mickey laughs, twirling one pigtail around his finger. "Nah. I'll have some beer. Rose, truth or dare?"

"Me again? Uhm, dare this time, then, I suppose."

"Kiss the Doctor–"

She gasps out a 'what?', leaning forward as her jaw drops, and the Doctor's arm falls off her.

"–on the nose."

"Oh."

"Hm," Mickey says, scratching his chin, "or the cheek. Or maybe his wonky ear. Or his lips. Or his chin. Or maybe just the forehead. Yeah, the forehead. No! His hand. No, that's no fun. Right between his eyebrows. Or just the corner of his mouth. Or neck? Or maybe–"

"For fuck's sake, Mickey," Rose says, glaring at him.

She turns to the Doctor, cradling his cheeks in her hands, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. He takes a sharp breath through his nose, but his mouth feels soft and responsive under hers, and she dares herself to hold the kiss a little longer. Her lips tingle and she brushes them over his, butterflies looping in her stomach when one of his hands hover at her waist, the heat of it penetrating the thin fabric of her slip. She angles her head and moves in closer, capturing his top lip between hers, sliding one hand to the back of his head and the other to his shoulder. Warmth whirls in her stomach, flits up in her chest, vibrating in her throat in the form of a giggle, and she pushes it back down not to send him running.

When his hand connects with her body, fingers digging into her flesh, her breath catches in her throat. Heat spreads in waves from her waist, curling around her heart, the pit of her stomach, her core, thrumming out in her limbs. She licks his lip, heart pounding when he opens for her, and she pushes her tongue forward in a slow, careful movement. Their tongues meet. They freeze, holding their breaths until a tiny, soft noise escapes her and he gasps. He sags a little, mouth falling more open, making room for her. She buries the fingertips of her left hand in the flesh of his shoulder, rakes her right through his hair, bumping his nose with her as she slips farther in and strokes his tongue with a quiet moan.

He recoils.

She staggers back in the sofa, staring at him with round eyes and slack jaw. He's panting, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, eyes dark and unreadable. The spots on her body that connected to his now feel cold and she shivers, wrapping her arms around her waist. He cards a hand through his hair and turns back to the table, grabbing his mug and quaffing its content.

Rose sits frozen until she forces herself to blink and turn back around, smiling into the uncomfortable silence in the room. Seconds pass. She keeps her eyes averted, focussing on nothing but willing her heart to slow down and the blush to leave her cheeks.

Shareen, bless her heart, breaks into a loud, outstretched yawn. "Blimey, I'm knackered. And pissed. Mickey, can you show me to the guest room quarters? 'Cause I'm just gonna get lost in this bloody ship."

"Yeah, 'course." Mickey slips his arm around Shareen and helps her up. He nods at the others. "Night, then."

"Yeah, night," Shareen says, padding out of the room with Mickey.

Rose picks at her nails, runs her fingertips over the jagged edges, scrapes at the remnants of pale, pink polish. She and the Doctor never talked about Cassandra–and not about the time vortex kiss, although the memories of it returned to Rose shortly after Krop Tor. Something they've yet to talk about as well. Not a word about how they lay huddled together all night to stave off nightmares. They've not talked about her promise of forever or the fact that she chose to risk everything and stay with him, rather than to leave to safety in a parallel world. How her choice influenced her mum, Mickey, and Pete. If Rose leaves for her room now, they'll never talk about this either.

The Doctor startles her out of her thoughts by clearing his throat. "I can clean this up, if-if you want to go to bed. You must be tired, hm?"

"Yeah…" She takes a deep breath, pulse throbbing in her neck, her head, fingers trembling. "Or...we could keep playing."

"Sorry?"

She licks her lips and turns to him, pulling her legs up under her. "What d'you say? Truth or dare, Doctor?"

He sits silent for a moment. She sees his Adam's apple bob. Although she never saw him refill it, steam rises from his mug and he wraps his fingers around it, bringing it to his mouth. He rests the rim of the mug against his lip, then puts the mug back down. When he talks, his voice is so low she wouldn't have heard him had the room not been so quiet.

"Dare."

* * *

**tbc**


	3. Command

**Note:** This is NSFW. I've edited down the smut from MA to M as best as I could, because this was a very porny chapter originally. For those who want the full smut, this story can be read on teaspoon, ao3, or tumblr. It's still fairly smutty, though.

* * *

**QUESTIONS, DARES AND DEFLECTIONS  
**_Chapter 3 - Command_

* * *

Rose swallows, watching the Doctor stare at his mug. She dries off her damp hands with a few discreet wipes against the sofa cushions and places two fingers under his chin, no pressure behind her touch.

"Look at me."

His eyes move first, then his head and, after a brief pause, the rest of his body, pulling up his legs in the sofa. Sitting criss-cross, with raised shoulders and arms as tense as his jaw, he just barely meets her eye. She inhales through her nose, letting out the air in a steady stream. As a kid, when she stood on the platform of the diving tower, five metres above the pool, and her friends all peeked over the edge and giggled, trying to muster up some courage, Rose walked straight on and jumped. No need to drag it out; just do it. _Just do it_.

Letting her nails scratch the dust of stubble covering his skin, she slides her fingers off his chin and touches her clavicle, running the pads up the column of her neck.

"I dare you to lick me from my collarbone to my ear."

She tightens her hands into fists to hide how they tremble, waiting for him to move. He follows the line she drew with his eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lips; she sucks in a sharp breath and holds it, exhaling when he leans in, only to have it hitch when she feels his tongue against her skin. He drags it along her neck, warm and wet, just a bit raspy. She shudders, biting back a whimper of disappointment when he pulls back as soon as he reaches her ear.

"Your turn," she says and gives him a soft, shy smile, but it fades when he shakes his head. "Oh. Yeah, I– Yeah."

She looks away, feeling as if someone thrust her out, buck naked, into the mid-winter snow to sober her the hell up. Gripping the backrest with a clammy hand, she pushes herself up to leave, but before she's moved her legs off the sofa, she catches a glimpse of his face through the corner of her eye. She snaps her head up for a proper look, mouth falling open when she sees burning, dark eyes staring back. He sits inclined to her, hands placed on either side of him and pushed into the cushions, as though he's on the prowl. She sinks back into her seat, relief washing over her as she understands what he wants.

"I dare you to kiss my neck," she says, tilting her head to the side to give him room.

He leans in without hesitation, brushing away her hair with gentle fingers to get to her skin. He runs his lips over her neck, tongue moving out for a taste, and heat washes through her body when he adds soft suction. She moves her hand from the backrest to his shoulder, curling her fingers around the muscle, panting as he moves his mouth over her skin. When he pulls back, she lets her fingers linger, ghosting down his chest and over his nipple, before bringing them to her own chest.

"I dare you to kiss me here," she says, touching her sternum.

She doesn't have time to remove her fingers before he nudges them to the side with his nose, pressing an open-mouthed kiss right above the valley of her breasts. He trails his lips downward, nuzzling her cleavage. She squirms, slipping one spaghetti strap down her shoulder, but he pulls back as soon as the cup falls from her breast, dark eyes meeting hers rather than taking in her exposed skin.

She licks her lips and takes a deep breath, sliding her legs off the sofa and standing up. He follows her movement, slight crinkle between his brows, jaw slack. She holds out her hand, motioning to him to stand up by waving her fingers, and his bemused expression deepens as he complies.

"I dare you to take off my slip."

He reaches out, curling his hand into a tight fist before unclenching it and sliding a finger under her strap, moving it back to her shoulder. Pinching the hem of her slip, he pulls it upward and she raises her arms in the air to help him. The fabric crackles around her tousled hair and strands cling to her cheeks, skin prickling when the chill of the air conditioned room surrounds her naked body. He tosses the slip to the side and tucks her hair behind her ears before standing in front of her, stance relaxed but attentive. She straightens her back, holding her head high whilst she waits for her racing heart to calm down but, as she opens her mouth to speak, she loses her courage.

"I dare you to...nibble on my earlobe."

He quirks into an imperceptible smile and takes a step closer, clasping his hands behind his back as he leans in and grazes his teeth over her skin. Gooseflesh spreads across her body when he shifts his position to suck on her earlobe and his chest hair tickles her breasts. She breathes out, the smallest sound of pleasure escaping her throat, and the bastard pulls back.

She looks him square in the eye, thrusting her tits out.

"I dare you to play with them."

His eyes drift down to her breasts, following their curves, before he cups the left. He weighs it in his hand, thumb running circles over the peak. She hisses and rocks her hips; the corners of his mouth curl up further and he cups her other soft mound as well. She whimpers, drinking in him. He stares at his hands fondling her breasts, eyes glazed over and tongue touching his top lip.

"I dare you to use your mouth," she says in a raspy, breathy voice.

He licks his lips as he bends forward, tongue darting out farther and running from the underside of her breast up to the top. He circles it, and she nestles her fingers in his hair, pushing him closer until he sucks the bud into his mouth. Breathing out a string of curses, she rubs her thighs together and runs her other hand over the smattering of hair on his chest, to _his_ nipple.

She coaxes the soft skin hard by mirroring his mouth's movement with her fingers. He moans and takes in more of her, massaging her flesh with his tongue before kissing his way across her cleavage to her other breast. She scrapes her nails across his scalp before giving his hair a few tender tugs; he releases her with a pop, looking up at her with hungry eyes and parted lips, tongue lax.

"I dare you to kiss my belly-button."

He drops down on his knees and dips his tongue into her navel, swirling it before giving the flesh beneath a soft nip. She sucks in her stomach, giggling when he showers her with gentle pecks and bites; however, as she notices him adjust the fabric over his straining erection, she takes a step back, biting her lip, eyes locked on his crotch.

"I dare you to remove your trousers."

He stands up, swaying a bit, eyes blinking, and fumbles with the fastening and zip. His hand shoots out and grips her shoulder when he, wiggling his hips and kicking off his trouser legs, nearly falls on his arse. Her chuckles catch in her throat when she sees his erection peeking out from under the waistband of his brown boxer briefs. She swallows, hand moving on its own accord to palm him, but before she's even close, he drops back down on his knees and gazes up at her.

"I dare–"

She draws in a shuddering breath when self-consciousness hits her, the lulling buzz she's felt the past hours leaving by the minute. The room feels large and quiet and so, so bright; she hasn't groomed in ages and years have passed since she last shagged someone. He looks up at her, a ravenous glint lighting up his dark eyes, arms hanging by his sides, shoulders relaxed as he waits for her next command. It ignites something within her, calls forth the woman she sometimes becomes when danger looms over her and she needs to take charge. New-found confidence blooms in the pit of her stomach; it breezes through her, spreading out in her limbs, steadying her legs, her voice, her gaze.

"Take off my knickers."

His fingers fly to her hips, tugging down her knickers until she can step out of them. He waits again, staring at her face instead of the dark patch of curls before him, although they nearly brush against the tip of his nose. She places her hand on his head, fingers curled around the back.

"Taste me."

His mouth drops open with an exhale and, gripping her hips as she widens her stance, he closes the distance between them. She moans when he tastes every part of her, sucking and swirling, before taking a final long lick and resuming his position.

"Make me come."

He lets out a strangled noise and dives back between her legs, pleasuring her until she grows weak in the knees. She mumbles out something about sitting down and manages to place herself with her back against the armrest without him releasing her with his mouth. He crawls up in the sofa, lying on his stomach, hands sliding in under her bum; she slings one leg over his shoulder, the other hanging off the edge of the cushion, and leans her temple on the backrest.

His tongue flits all over, never lingering long enough to bring her closer to the edge; she returns her hand to the back of his head, adding a little pressure the next time he's right where she needs him.

"There." She pants, pushing up against his mouth. "Yes. There. Focus there."

She breathes out encouraging noises, arches her back, scratches his neck, his sideburn, fists his hair. Her body spasms every time he hits her just right and she aches for something to fill her up.

"Fingers."

He stills. Lifting his head, he looks up at her with furrowed brow and uses his digits instead of his tongue.

"No. In. Inside. In." She lifts her hips. "Fingers _in_. Two. Two's good."

Smiling and looking more than a little flushed, he breathes out an 'oh', slides his fingers into her, and buries his mouth back between her thighs.

"Don't be gentle."

He nods and continues to pleasure her. She rocks her hips against him, filling the quiet room with keening noises as the tension coiling inside her tightens. He hums and moans, eyes closed and forehead smooth, hips rutting against the sofa. The throbbing between her legs builds and builds until she's hanging on the precipice, so far gone she's babbling and cursing and bucking against him. She shouts out as her orgasm crashes through her, filling her body with a white hot tingling until it's all too much.

"Slowdown-slowdown-slowdown."

She pats his head, squirming away from him, relaxing when he eases the pressure, and his fingers slow down.

"Mmm." She rests her hand over her damp forehead, face beaming out a smile. "That was…"

She lets out a happy sigh and lifts her head, looking down at him, and whimpers when he presses a kiss to the inside of both thighs, to her mons. He gazes back at her with hooded eyes, face shining with her wetness, and her stomach flips. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, a new command ready to fall from them, but a swishing sound followed by a soft thump interrupt her. She looks to him, but he shrugs, so she leans back and takes a peek behind the sofa, breaking out into a grin.

"Think the TARDIS approves," she says, scrambling up on her feet.

He stands up as well and she grabs his tie, tugging him with her as she backs up to the sea of crimson pillows, cushions, and covers filling up a hollow in the floor. He doesn't smile at her, doesn't stop looking at her, doesn't wipe his face with his hand, but he leans into her touch when she cups his cheek.

"Kiss me," she whispers, rising on tip toes and looping her arms around his neck.

He envelops her in his arms, fingers curling around her waist, and pulls her close. His nose nudges hers and their teeth clash before they find the right angle. When his tongue slips into her mouth, she moans and grinds against him, smiling into the kiss at the feeling of his erection pressing into her. Jimmy rarely went down on her and, when he did, he spent little time down there. Mickey took his time, on the other hand, but always softened by the time she came, leaving her feeling so unsexy. With him, she had to–

She pulls back with a gasp. "Oh, god."

The Doctor wobbles, glossy eyes blinking at her, and he tightens his hands around her waist. "What?"

"Mickey! He wasn't coming back, was he? Have you locked the door?"

The Doctor shakes his head, cheeks turning as crimson as the pillows they stand on.

"Oh, my god." She turns to the door, but finds a smooth wall instead; she grins and takes a look around the room. The TARDIS has removed the door to the galley as well, but not the one to Rose's bathroom. "Oh. She's really on our side today, isn't she?"

He hums and nods, eyes flitting around the room, and he runs his fingers through his hair until he reaches his neck. He rubs it, moving his body in a slight rocking motion, rolling from the balls of his feet to his heels. Biting her lip, she places her hand on his chest and feels his fierce, rapid heartbeats pounding against her palm. She takes a deep breath and steps back, putting her hands on her hips and tilting up her chin.

"Doctor. Look at me." He stiffens for a second, but then he meets her eye and a thrill runs through her when she sees the heat returning to his gaze. "Take off your pants and lie down."

He tugs off his boxer briefs and settles on his back. She licks her lips and sits down on her knees beside him, reaching out to wrap her fingers around him, only to stop when she hear his breath hitch, sees his stomach and thighs tensing up. She slips out of her role and looks at him, smiling and stroking his hip and side in soothing circles.

"You'll tell me if you wanna stop, right?" she asks. He nods. "With words?"

"Yes."

"So I'll continue, then?"

He clears his throat. "Yes."

She grips him at the base, squeezing. He hisses and bucks his hips, hands fisting the covers. He looks human to her, and she can barely wait to feel him inside her. First, though…

She bites her lip to hide a grin, then takes a long lick and, opening up, envelops him with her mouth. He groans, eyes falling shut. Sliding up and down, she slathers her saliva over him to make him slick before pulling back to pump him with her fist. She watches him writhe, pride washing over her when she sees his face contorting in pleasure.

She takes him in again, bobbing her head up and down in a steady rhythm, using her right hand where her mouth can't reach. He shivers when she rakes her nails up and down his inner thigh with her left hand, moans when she reaches his sack, cries out when she sucks a little harder. She casts a glance at him, finding him staring at her with wide eyes, chest heaving. She raises her eyebrows in question; he shakes his head, so she releases him and climbs on top of him.

Straddling his stomach, she puts her hands on either side of him and he wraps his arms around her as she leans down to kiss him. She takes her time, all slow strokes, playful nibbling, and tender sucking, but as the tastes of sex, rum, butter, and cinnamon soften, and it's all _him_, she lets out a hungry growl and deepens the kiss. Once his breathing calms down, she reaches between them and wraps her fingers around him. His tongue stills, fingers digging into her flesh, shuddering breaths escaping him.

"Protection?" she asks against his lips.

"What?"

She lifts her head, looking down at him. He's panting, brows drawn together, eyes closed. She's just about to repeat her question when, on the floor right next to the sunken bed, a tray materialises. A jar and a wet paper towel stands on it; she lifts the jar, reading the instructions written on the label whilst rubbing him against herself. He whimpers from the loss when she scoots down until she sits on his thighs; she grins at him and unscrews the lid, scooping up a generous dollop of contraceptive gel and massaging it into his erection.

"What are–" He cranes his neck and stares down at her hand, lolling his head back, breathing out an 'oh' of understanding. "Protection."

She stifles a giggle and wipes her hand on the paper towel before repositioning herself. She sinks down, stomach swooping at the feeling of him filling her up, and she has to take a moment to wrap her head around it all. He lies still, hands gripping her hips and pushing down, even though he's already fully sheathed. Her head buzzes, but she feels tipsy rather than drunk now; she's seen him inebriated a few times, but never as much as this. Dread curls in her stomach over tomorrow, but the throbbing in her center, the fluttering in her heart, and the feeling of him hard and willing between her legs overpower her worries

Grabbing ahold of his tie, wrapping it around her hand, she gives it a soft yank. "Open your eyes." She bores hers into him when he does, one eyebrow arched. "I'm gonna fuck you now."

A shudder runs through him and he looks as though he's close to combusting, eyes black as night, nostrils flaring, fringe clinging to his damp forehead. She rocks her hips a little; he buries his fingers in her flesh and grits his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath when she lifts up and drops back down. Covering one of his hands with hers, she angles it back so she can twine their fingers, holding his tie in a steady grip with her other. She starts off slow, up and down, grinding a bit, keeping their eyes locked; however, he hits her just right, building the tingling inside her, and it spurs her on to move faster.

It takes them several thrusts to find their rhythm, but soon she's riding him with wild abandon, closing her eyes and listening to the wet sounds of their fucking mingling with their panting and moaning. The pressure increases, pulsing in her, but she sits too upright to get friction where she needs it.

"Touch me, Doctor."

When he doesn't move, she opens first one eye, then the other. He's looking at her, hair ruffled and shoulders raised. She smiles and brings his hand up to her cheek, nuzzling into it. He brushes his thumb over her skin, eyes softening, small smile playing on his lips. She kisses his palm and slides his fingers down her neck to her breast, pausing for a moment when he toys with her nipple, then moving his hand down her stomach to her curls.

"Rub," she says, letting her eyes drift shut.

He does as he's told; she drops his tie and leans forward, propped up with her hands on either side of his head, so she can grind into his touch. She fucks him harder, shorter, quicker, resting her forehead against his, stealing kisses between harsh breaths. Their noses bump, sweat trickles down her temples, her back, makes her thighs slick.

The distance between them closes for each stroke until they're clinging to one another, rutting against each other. The sensations heightens until they erupt, flowing from her center, down her legs, out her arms, curling her toes, clenching her fingers. She moans out her release in his mouth, swallowing his when he follows her right after. They rock together until they're spent, lips giving and taking supple, wet, lazy kisses, her hands in his hair, his splayed over her back.

She feels his breathing slow down and his body go lax under hers, lips stilling, softening length slipping out of her.

"Are you falling asleep?" she asks, rubbing her nose against his.

He mumbles something, voice thick.

"Are you still drunk?" He doesn't answer; she rises a bit and combs his fringe back, watching his relaxed features, hearing soft breaths escaping his parted lips. "Seriously? Suppose you don't have superior stamina, then." She rolls off him with a snort and presses a kiss to his chest. "If you're just pretending, you better be here when I come back. Just need to pop into the loo."

She slinks into the en suite and empties her bladder before taking a quick shower, washing off the sweat, the stickiness between her legs, her makeup. She wrings excess water out of her hair and runs a brush through it in front of the mirror, eyes inspecting her body for marks, but he left none. Not a single one.

She grabs her toothbrush with a sigh, cleans her teeth, uses mouthwash, and heads back out. Her heart flutters and she can't help but beam as she sees the Doctor still lying cuddled into the heap of pillows and blankets on the floor. She skips over to him and curls up by his side, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck.

"Will you regret this tomorrow?" she whispers, getting a snore as a reply. "Please don't. Please-please-please don't."

The TARDIS dim the lights and Rose fumbles around after the edge of a blanket and pulls it up over her and the Doctor. She curls one leg over his and slings her arm across his waist before burrowing her face back into the hollow of his shoulder. Breathing him in, she brushes her lips over his warm skin and squeezes him tighter.

"Please be here when I wake up," she says, and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

.

* * *

Rose stretches out with a groan, scrunching up her face at the sharp pain in her head. Rubbing her temples, she sits up in bed and mutters under her breath when the pain transforms into a dull throbbing. Her stomach turns, mouth watering, and she swings her legs to the side to stand up, making a surprised noise when she hits floor where she expects air. She blinks her eyes open.

"This isn't my room," she says, smacking her tongue at the foul taste in her mouth. "What the…"

She's sitting in a bed sunken into the floor, full of soft pillows and blankets. Images of the Doctor's flushed body against the crimson sheets flash in her mind. She blushes, smiling so hard her cheeks ache, the nausea and headache all forgotten. Turning to look over her shoulder, to say good morning to the man she loves, her smile dies. She shifts around completely, and runs her hands over the empty spot beside her, heart sinking into her stomach. The sheets are cold.

* * *

**tbc**


	4. Retreat

**beta: **resile

* * *

**QUESTIONS, DARES AND DEFLECTIONS  
**_Chapter 4 - Retreat_

* * *

Rose drags herself through the corridor towards the galley, head throbbing from the hangover. She takes a moment, one hand pressed against the wall, the other against her forehead, and closes her eyes. Images flash in her mind: the Doctor's flushed face; his hard cock; his dark eyes adoring her; the cold, empty bed. She releases a shuddering breath. He doesn't sleep as much as she does; drinking doesn't necessarily change that fact. His absence doesn't have to mean anything. He said yes. She asked and he said yes.

She nods and pushes herself off the wall, the cool silk of her Christmas dress swishing around her legs as she walks. How much of a yes is a yes when he's that drunk, though? Did she take advantage of him? This–waking up to him not being there–was always a risk, and she was willing to take it. Take it when he was much drunker than she–so drunk that he might not have known what he was doing. She worries her lip and finds a strand hanging down from her messy bun, curling the hair around her finger much like the dread in her stomach curls around the little confidence she has left in what happened last night and what it means.

Nausea hits her and she stops, leaning against the wall. No. He was lucid. Wasn't he? Horny and drunk, granted, but lucid enough to know what they were doing. Right? She feels calm washing over her and her eyes fly open, staring around her at the quiet, dim corridor. She knits her brow, absent-minded fingers stroking the wall, soothing vibrations thrumming through her skin, into her body.

She looks up at the ceiling. "Was that you?" Another wave rolls through her and she smiles, patting the wall. "Thank you," she says, moving along with strengthened steps.

The corridor comes to a sudden stop and a door materialises next to Rose. She grins and presses the open button, stepping into the galley when the door halves slide apart. Mickey and Shareen sit at the table, well-dressed, heads resting in their hands; the Doctor stands by the stove, flipping pancakes with one hand, stirring something in a pot with the other. Rose swallows.

"Morning," she says, but it comes out all croaky. She clears her throat, stomach fluttering from nervousness. "Morning!"

Mickey looks up, splitting into a grin when he sees her face. "Whoa. Rough night?"

"Uhm…" She swallows, feeling her cheeks heat up, resisting the urge to look at the Doctor. "Yeah. Got a bit sloshed, I suppose."

Shareen groans. "Didn't we all."

"Shareen threw up on me, she did."

She glares at Mickey. "Did not!"

"Yeah, you did. There I was, like the fine gentleman I am, helping you to your room 'cause you're so pissed you can barely stand up, and that's the thanks I get?"

"Shut it, Mickey Smith. You got one droplet–_droplet!_–on your trousers. That hardly counts." Shareen sighs and rolls her eyes before giving him a gentle smile. "Thanks, Mickey."

"Well, that's just the kind of man I am," he says and Rose shuts them out, letting them banter in peace and directing her focus at the Doctor.

His shoulders look stiff and he moves his arms in quick, short, effective jerks as he whisks and flips. Drawing in a deep breath, Rose positions herself by his side and rests her hands on the countertop to hide how they tremble.

"Morning," she says, looking at him through the corner of her eye.

"Morning."

"How-how are you feeling?" she asks and her thumb finds its way to her mouth without her permission. The second teeth meet skin, she forces her hand back on the countertop.

"Good. Well. I will soon, anyway." He nods over his shoulder. "Hangover cure."

She turns around and notices four glasses on the table: one at her spot and one at the Doctor's, both full of purple liquid; one at Mickey's and one at Shareen's, both empty save a thin layer of purple at the bottom.

"Oh. Thanks. D'you need help with–"

"No, I've got this. Sit down and have your drink, Rose."

"Yeah… Thanks."

"Yeah, don't help him, Rose," Mickey says. "He's gotta do this on his own."

"What?" she asks, taking her seat at the table. "Why?"

"Don't you remember? I dared him last night, I did. Dared him to take this like a human, no Time Lord tricks to sober himself up or nothing, and he said he'd make breakfast and all."

"Oh, right." She licks her lips and grabs her glass, swirling the liquid around before bringing it to her mouth. "I'm a bit...fuzzy on the details," she says and takes a big gulp, the tang of the drink already soothing her nausea.

"Luckily _he_ wasn't." Mickey smirks. "Smells good, boss. Can't wait for them pancakes. If I'd known you couldn't resist a dare sooner, I would've–"

"You would've _what_, Rickey?" the Doctor says without turning around, moving the finished breakfast food onto serving platters.

Mickey straightens his posture, smirk slipping. "Nothing."

The Doctor puts the food on the table and takes his seat opposite Rose, chugging down his drink in one go before shoving breakfast onto his plate. "Eat up. I'm dropping off Shareen after breakfast and then we're going straight to Jackie's. She called the TARDIS phone earlier when you slept, Rose. Apparently you weren't picking up on your mobile."

"Oh. Yeah. Uhm. I don't really know where it is. Or I mean…" She rubs her forehead and shuts herself up by finishing her hangover cure.

Mickey arches an eyebrow, eyes flitting between the Doctor and Rose for a second, then turns his attention towards the breakfast. Shareen fills the silence with her plans for the day, the Christmas presents she's bought, and what she hopes to receive, and Rose sits on edge, waiting for her friend to bring up the vibrator or say anything else that would make Rose even more uncomfortable; however, Shareen stays away from any inappropriate subjects and Rose sighs in relief when the plates are clean and the Doctor starts clearing the table.

"We'll take care of it, boss. You can go drop Shareen off. Right, Rose?" Mickey says, giving her a determined look.

The Doctor stills, putting down the stack of plates in his hands. "Yeah?"

Rose nods at Mickey. "Yeah. No problem. We'll take care of it."

"Oh, I had so much fun!" Shareen reaches under the table and pulls out her bag, hoisting it up on her shoulder as she walks up to Rose and gives her a hug. "Thanks so much, babe." She tilts her head, whispering into Rose's ear, "I'll text you after I've tried my present, yeah?" Giggling, Shareen moves over to Mickey and gives him a hug as well. "See you at New Year's, then, right?" she asks, pointing at them and backing up towards the door.

"Yeah, I–" Rose looks at the Doctor and shrugs with one shoulder. He nods. "Yeah," she says, smiling at Shareen. "New Year's. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas!" Shareen waves and slips out the door with the Doctor.

Mickey grabs the plates, utensils, and glasses, puts them on the serving platters and carries all of it to the sink, filling it with water.

"We've got a dishwasher."

"I know." He grabs the washing-up liquid, squirts a generous amount into the water, and rolls up his sleeves. "This takes longer."

"Yeah," Rose says, grabbing a towel and slinging it over her shoulder. "Were you up long before…"

"No. Ten minutes maybe." He hands her a clean, wet plate for her to dry. "Well, me at least. Shareen and the Doctor were already in here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She said she always sleeps like the dead, but only for six hours tops. Then she needs the loo for a biggie and then she gets hungry."

"Oh, right." Rose laughs. "Yeah, she was always like that. Amazed she found the galley, though."

"Yeah. She said she just followed the corridor. Reckon the TARDIS helped her."

"Mm. She's been really helpful lately," Rose mumbles.

"What's that?"

"Looking forward to mum's turkey, then?"

"What happened last night after we left?"

"Nothing."

Mickey snorts. "Yeah, and I'm the inspiration to Harry Potter. Why are you two acting all weird, then?"

Rose shrugs, drying another plate.

"Did you shag?"

"'Course not," she says, fighting the flush creeping up her cheeks.

"Yeah? Your face's all red, though." Mickey puts down the glass he's cleaning and turns to Rose, wiping his hand on his trousers before curling it around her upper arm. "Did he do something? Did he say something stupid? Do you need me to hurt him, 'cause I will."

She smiles and shakes her head. "No, he didn't do anything wrong. I…" Worrying her lip, she leans her hip against the counter and regards Mickey for a moment. He has furrowed his brow in concern, chin tilted down, eyes warm and friendly. He rubs her skin with his thumb and she sighs. "I made it clear I wanted...things. But he didn't. So, yeah. That's all there is to it, really."

Mickey's eyebrows shoot up. "He _rejected_ you?"

She hugs her body, staring at the foam covering the water surface in the sink, listening to it crackle and pop.

"No. No! No way." She shrugs again, head sinking towards her chest. "That git! We all saw him," Mickey says, thrusting his arm out and flinging off the foam that was clinging to his fingers. "The way he was touching you and all. He was leading you on, then, that bloody bastard. He was–"

"No," Rose says in a tone so firm Mickey takes a step back. "No. I pushed too hard. You weren't there. You don't know. And I'm not gonna say. But it was me." Images of what they did last night once more flood her mind and her heart clenches, nose tingling and eyes turning glossy. She squeezes them shut. "_I_ pushed too hard. He didn't do _anything_ wrong. It-it–"

Tightening her lips, she fights off the grimace threatening to break out if she gives in to the sobs in her throat. She sucks in a deep breath and it sounds so shuddering Mickey steps closer to her again, wrapping his arms around her for a tight hug.

"It was all me," she whispers into his shoulder. "I was stupid and selfish. Don't be mad at him."

Mickey rubs her back and presses a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry, Rose."

"Yeah, me too."

"Oi!" The Doctor's voice breaks them apart and Rose turns towards the counter, grabbing the towel and busying herself by wiping a few droplets off a glass. "Gonna stand there all day, then? Your mother's out there banging down the doors."

Rose forces a bright smile on her face and turns around. "Oh, we're already there?"

"Yes. I'm very efficient. I've even brought the gifts to the console room," he says with a wide grin and a cheery voice, but it does nothing to hide the dark look he gives Mickey, and hope flutters in her chest at the implication. "C'mon, then."

The Doctor rushes off and Mickey darts after him, but Rose drags her feet behind her so she can linger in the console room in case the Doctor does the same. Her stomach jolts when she sees him standing there alone, punching a sequence into the keyboard, eyes locked on some readings on the monitor. She can't see her bags anywhere; Mickey must've brought them with him. Fiddling with her earring, Rose walks closer to the console, but puts herself at a respectable distance from the Doctor, and clears her throat.

"Hm?"

"I'm...I'm sorry," she says over the sound of knocking on the door.

"What for?" He squints and leans closer to the screen, one hand reaching into his pocket to whip out his specs. He puts them on and raises his eyebrows. "Huh… She's unusually active. Suppose it might be 'cause of Shareen. She rearranged the corridors for her, apparently."

"Yeah, for me as well."

"Well, she always did like you," he says, sliding his glasses back into his pocket.

"Doctor, I'm sorry for–"

"Oi! Are you ignoring me?" Her mum's voice rings through the TARDIS's doors and Rose shuts her eyes, growling out an exasperated sigh. "Last time I checked I didn't just invite Mickey, did I?"

"I'm sorry for forcing you to celebrate Christmas with my mum," she says, chuckling.

"No one's forcing me to do anything, Rose," he says in a soft voice, still not looking at her, and heads towards the doors.

Too stunned to do anything but stare, Rose stands rooted to the spot with her mouth hanging open. It feels dry, and she moves her lips, her tongue, trying to form a proper response, but he steps out through the doors before she's got a word out.

"What's going on?" she asks, eyes directed at the ceiling. The TARDIS's hums caress her mind, soothes her, but doesn't bring any clarity to the situation. "Sometimes it feels like you can do anything. Don't suppose you can make him talk, too, right?"

The door opens and the Doctor's head pops in. "Rose?" He scrunches up his nose. "Don't leave me alone out here with your mother."

"I heard that!"

"She kissed me," he mouths to Rose with a pout.

"I heard that, too!"

"How could you _possibly_ hear that?" he asks Jackie, turning around and holding up the door, waving at Rose with his free hand.

"I'm a mum! Mums hear _everything_. Got ears like an eagle, don't I?"

"What? That's not how you– Or, well," he says, tilting his head to the side, "they do have excellent hearing, you're right about that... Oh, all right."

Smiling to herself, Rose moves down the ramp and joins her family. Her mum showers her with kisses and compliments whilst Pete stands back, waiting for his turn. Although almost six months have passed since Canary Wharf, he still hovers at the sidelines, giving the others room to chat and laugh whenever Rose and the Doctor come for a visit. Rose breaks free from her mum's arms and throws her own around Pete.

"Merry Christmas, dad," she says with a grin. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm good, love. House's coming along nicely, don't you reckon?"

Rose looks around the room, taking in the new coat of paint–a warm, golden tone instead of the glaring blood red walls from when they bought the place–the glittering, blinking decorations, the crackling fireplace, and the Christmas tree in the corner. She nods and smiles.

"Looks great!"

"Christmas in a house. In a house!" Her mum's eyes sparkle. "I can scarcely believe it. Me! Living in a house! A _proper_ house, with a porch and a garden and things!"

Rose releases a breathy chuckle, exchanging glances with the Doctor. She smiles at the tender look he gives her, warmth filling up her chest. Sometimes, when she curls up on her side alone in bed, she pretends _his_ arm lies around her waist, just as when they lay together in that little bunker on Krop Tor, seeking comfort in one another's embrace. Though, she always lets her fantasies take over, lets her hand wander, fondling her breasts, dipping into her knickers…

Rose kills that train of thought; she shouldn't indulge in it today–or here, of all places–and definitely not when their gazes meet. She tenses up when she feels heat tingle in her cheeks, but exhales when he curves his mouth into a faint smile and ducks his head before the flush spreads across her whole face.

"Oh, you'll be my favourite forever and ever and ever," Jackie says, turning to him and smushing his cheeks together until his lips pucker.

His eyes widen when Jackie leans in closer. "Rose, control your mother!" he says, voice muffled by Jackie squashing his face.

"Mum, just leave him be."

Jackie lets out a loud sigh and shakes her head, but still shines with happiness. "I was just thanking him. We'd never live like this if he hadn't helped your father get a job at UNIT."

"Oh, I just made sure he got an interview. Pete did all the work."

"He's a good man, my Pete." Jackie sends him a soft smile and he returns it as he walks over to her and wraps his arm around her waist. She leans against him and claps her hands together. "You've all had breakfast, yeah?" she asks and they nod. "Good! Then I suppose it's time for presents, innit? But before we do that I have a request. You," she says, pointing at the Doctor, "move that bloody box of yours out to the garden. I'm having a proper, _human_ Christmas this time. No killer trees or robot Santas, you hear? No alien nothing."

"But _I'm_ alien."

"Oh, you don't count." Jackie dismisses his comment by waving her hand. "We all know and love you, Doctor. You're one of us, you are. You're family. Now, go on!"

The Doctor pulls a face, but heads back into the TARDIS, and Rose has to tighten her fists so hard her nails dig into her palms to prevent herself from running after him. She might've taken advantage of him, and she owes him lots and lots of apologies, and maybe even some groveling, but he wouldn't _leave_ her. Not without saying goodbye, at least. Not after everything they've gone through; yet, her heart flies up in her throat when the timeship dematerialises, and she can't help but move a little closer to the window and take a peek outside to make sure. She sags from relief when she sees the blue box appear next to the bird bath and, a minute later, she hears the front door close.

* * *

.

* * *

Jackie ushers them to a sofa group by the fireplace and Rose tries not to read too much into it when the Doctor chooses to sit on the floor, back against one of the armchairs, instead of next to her on the sofa. She tries not to find a hidden meaning behind his actions when he hesitates for a second before giving her the most platonic hug in history, patting her back with a friendly hand, after opening his gift: a signed book by a 37th century author he loves, personal message and all. She spent almost two hours queuing in a quaint little bookshop for that, whilst he was shopping for spare parts. Wanker.

She wraps her arms around herself and doesn't realise she's scooting closer to Mickey until she feels his warmth against her side. She rests her head on his shoulder, clenching her empty hand. The Doctor _is_ here, though. He's here, wearing an ugly Christmas jumper her mum knitted for him, celebrating with her family, and no one's forcing him to do anything.

Rose sniffs and watches her dad unwrap a gift from her mum. He acts even more low key than usual, waiting on all of them, always making sure everybody has enough to drink, or something to nibble on, telling Jackie to sit and that he'll take care of whatever needs tending every time she tries to move from her seat. Mickey notices, too. They follow Pete with their eyes, exchanging looks, but Rose welcomes the distraction. She'd welcome anything that will keep the focus off her and the distant Doctor. It's a bloody miracle her mum hasn't commented yet; she's too busy buzzing with excitement over hosting Christmas for _her_ little family in _her_ big house for the first time in her life. She keeps looking at Pete and Rose, and the content, dazzled smile that graces Jackie's lips almost causes Rose to tear up.

When Jackie hands Rose a gift, a square, flat thing that, without a doubt, hides a garment of some sort, she can barely contain her enthusiasm. She bounces in her seat, blue eyes wide and expectant. Rose gives her mum an amused smile and tears off the wrapping paper, flipping the box open and pouring out its contents. White fabric pools in Rose's lap and she grabs it, feeling it soft against her fingers, and holds it up in front of her.

A baby vest. She furrows her brow and blinks. A simple, white baby vest. Her eyes drift towards the Doctor without her permission, but she snaps them back as soon as she registers his pale complexion and round eyes.

"I… Mum…" Rose exhales as her mind works to sort out what's going on.

"Rose, for the love of– Turn it over!"

"I heart my big sister," she reads out loud, following with her fingers the black block letters and the red heart printed on the baby vest.

"She doesn't get it," her mum says, voice laced with held-back laughter. "She doesn't get it! Rose, check the top, too will ya?"

Rose blinks and looks down at her lap, noticing another garment. She lifts it up and reads the print. "I heart my baby brother." She grins when the information breaks through the confusion clogging up her mind. "You're pregnant?" She covers her mouth and shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm getting a brother? How? When? If you already know it's a boy… When are you–" She hurls herself out of the sofa and throws her arms around her mum. "Why haven't you said anything?"

"We wanted to wait until…" Jackie looks at Pete. "We're not exactly young anymore, are we? It's not… Oh, it's been so hard to keep it from you, sweetheart, but you never know. We just wanted to make sure." Jackie curls one hand around her stomach. "I'm over three months gone, and the doctor said it's all good. I'm healthy. He's healthy."

"It's okay. I understand," Rose says and wipes her cheeks. "Congratulations, mum, dad. I'm so happy for you. And for me! I'm getting a baby brother!"

"Took you long enough to catch on. That one," her mum nods at the Doctor, "always goes on and on about how brilliant you are, but I have my doubts, I do."

"Shut up," Rose says through a laugh as she takes her seat. "I'm just a bit hungover, that's all."

"Oh, you went out last night?"

"No, we were just home–" She swallows. Although she's thought of it as home for a long time, now, she's never called the TARDIS home out loud. She's never discussed it with the Doctor, either. "I mean, uhm, it's, uhm, now that you got rid of the flat," she says, glancing at the Doctor. He's not looking at her, but he's nodding in agreement. "Yeah, reckoned it was time for Shareen to get a proper look at my home. So we had a bit of celebration. Exchanged gifts and that. And the Doctor makes a gorgeous hot buttered rum, so, uhm, yeah, I might've been a little sloshed."

"He does? Too bad I can't have a taste…" Jackie clucks her tongue. "Oh, well. Speaking of, Mickey's in the guest room as usual, but your room is finally ready. Painted and furnished and all. Got an en suite and everything. You don't have to stay in the box anymore when you visit," Jackie says with a firm tone, giving her daughter a pointed look.

"Okay… Uhm, good. Yeah. Thanks, mum."

* * *

.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by without any positive changes in the Doctor's behaviour. The few times Jackie leaves Rose's side, she tries to get some alone time with him, but he slips away before she's had a chance to open her mouth and soon she gives up, because he's right. He doesn't need to say it with words; his actions speak loud enough: they shouldn't have this conversation in her mum's house with the others in the next room. It can wait until tomorrow.

Though, she can't stop the dread in her chest from increasing with each passing hour, because whilst he smiles and talks and jokes, he doesn't hold her hand, doesn't give her spontaneous hugs, doesn't sit next to her, doesn't flirt with her. She feels like a friend, any friend, and the only thing that keeps the others from noticing Rose's strained smile and forced laughter is the fact that her mum's been the center of attention ever since the news about the baby.

Jackie can't gushing about the baby, the house, Pete, Pete's job, the friendly neighbours, and the garden, and when she gets a pink paper crown from her Christmas cracker, she shouts out that her life is complete before bursting out laughing. Rose has never seen her mum as happy; yet, she can't find it in herself to push away the hurt and feel it too. She has to excuse herself after dinner, rushing off to the loo where she cracks a window open and sucks in large gulps of refreshing winter air. She smiles into the mirror until it looks real, feels real, and returns to the table. She doesn't miss the spark in the Doctor's eye when he perks up his head as she walks into the room. It gets a little easier after that.

* * *

.

* * *

After everyone–except the Doctor, of course–has yawned one time too many, Jackie slaps her knees and stands up. "Reckon it's time for bed. C'mon. I'll show you to your room." She raises her shoulders with a smile, eyes twinkling at Rose. "Oh, you're gonna love it!"

Jackie loops one arm around the Doctor's and the other around Rose's and tugs them along as she walks towards the door. His brow knit and he opens his mouth as though to speak, but Jackie beats him to it.

"C'mon. All of you," she calls over her shoulder, and Mickey and Pete move to follow her. "I wanna show you all what we've done to the cellar."

"You've put my room in the _cellar_?" Rose asks as they pad down the stairs.

"No need to sound like that. We've made it so homey and cosy and nice. You'll love it. Both of you," Jackie says just as they reach the door. She grabs the handle and pushes the door open, revealing a spacious room with flax flower patterned curtains over the small, rectangular windows placed almost at the ceiling, a dresser, a telly mounted on one wall, and a nightstand on either sides of a queen-sized bed with a TARDIS blue bedspread. "Reckoned you could do with some privacy."

Rose's jaw drops. "Wha'?"

"And that door right there leads to the en suite. I've bought you toothbrushes, toiletries, and there are towels, jimjams and nighties in the dresser. Oh, and slippers. And I think we got you dressing gowns as well. Right, Pete?"

"Yes. They're hanging in the en suite."

"Oh, there you go." Jackie smiles. "Everything you might need."

"The Doctor and me don't share a bed, mum."

Jackie frowns. "Oh. Really? Ooooh. It's like with cousin Mo, then? She doesn't share a bed with her bloke, either, 'cause she snores like a lumberjack, she does! He refuses to sleep with her. He just stays with her until she falls asleep and then he goes to his own room."

Rose doesn't have enough courage to look straight at the Doctor, but she can see him through the corner of her eye. He stands with tense shoulders and his hands buried inside his trouser pockets, as if he's trying to keep himself from rubbing his neck.

"Go on, try the bed." Jackie gives Rose a gentle push forward. "We got you a really good one."

Rose sits down and bounces a little, smiling and giving her mum a thumbs up.

"You, too," Jackie says to the Doctor, nudging him into the room. "Anyway. We'll see you at breakfast tomorrow. And no sneaking to that box in the middle of the night," she says. "I'm not having any guests of mine sleeping in the car when I have a proper house with guestrooms and all."

The corners of the Doctor's mouth curl down. "That's hardly a fair compari–"

"Oh, you know what I mean. Don't be daft." She gives them a sweet smile, grabbing Pete and Mickey's hands and pulling them with her out the door. "Good night!"

Mickey shoots Rose a quick, apologetic look, shrugging one shoulder, and she glares back at him when she puts two and two together. Bloody tattletale. Jackie closes the door behind them and Rose stares at it, listening to their retreating footsteps until she can't hear anything but the blood rushing in her ears. She waits minutes for something to happen, but the Doctor still stands a few steps into the room with his hands in his pockets, eyes locked on his feet. She licks her lips, swallows, takes a deep breath through her nose, filling her lungs to the brim, and opens her mouth to break the silence.

* * *

**tbc**


	5. Surrender

**nsfw: **This is edited down from MA. For the real smut, this is available on teaspoon, ao3, and my tumblr.**  
beta: **resile (she's not read through this not-as-smutty version, though)

* * *

**QUESTIONS, DARES AND DEFLECTIONS  
**_Chapter 5 - Surrender_

* * *

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" the Doctor says to his feet.

Rose rolls her eyes with a sigh. "Seriously? You gonna pretend you don't know what I'm apologising for?" He stays silent, unreadable mask in place. "Look at me," she says and he lifts his head, eyes dark, deep dimples in his cheeks. "I'm sorry about last night, all right?"

He drops his gaze, Adam's apple bobbing. "You don't need to apologise," he says, so low she barely hears it.

Her eyebrows shoot up and she shakes her head. "No? Clearly, I do. Look at how you're acting. God, you can't even bear to–" She presses her lips together when she feels a lump forming in her throat, and waits for it to subside enough for her to speak without her voice breaking. "I just need the loo. But when I get back out, we're having a talk. A proper talk." She looks at him for confirmation, but he stays unmoving, and frustration starts simmering inside her. "Doctor? Did you hear me?" He nods. "Good. And don't–" She holds up her hands. "Just-just– Don't move."

She kicks off her heels and stands up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. It squeezes her stomach, rounded after all that Christmas food, increasing the discomfort already confining her. She pulls out one of the drawers in the dresser, grabs a nightie, and locks herself inside the en suite. She's going to handle this like a grown up: a sensible talk without shouting or tears. She'll apologise, ask him what he needs her to do, ask him if he needs a break–from her, or just from touching–_anything_ but this. She just needs a moment to calm herself.

Gripping the edges of the sink hard, she shuts her eyes and focuses on her breathing: in, out, in, out; slow and steady. Why can't he just bloody open his mouth and tell her?

She groans and pulls the elastic out of her bun, plunging her fingers into her hair and massaging her scalp to get rid of the tense feeling she's got from having her hair up all day. She catches sight of herself in the mirror–the tousled hair, pink cheeks, and posh dress–and her thoughts wander back to last night, when she tried to make herself look sexy for him. She even tore off the buttons in her dress to show off her cleavage, for fuck's sake. Stupid. _Pathetic_!

Her bottom lip quivers and she sniffs, supporting herself by grabbing the sink again and leaning forward. "I'm sorry. I really am. I'm so sorry," she whispers, hot tears splashing down her cheeks.

She wipes them off with angry movements, checking herself in the mirror to make sure her mascara didn't run, and grabs the hem of her dress to pull it off when she remembers the zip in the back. Cursing under her breath, she reaches behind her and chases the bloody thing, but it slips out of her fingers. After she's worked herself sweaty, so annoyed the frustration now _boils_ in her veins, she huffs out a breath, unlocks the door and stomps out into the bedroom. The Doctor stands on the exact same spot, in the exact same position, as when she left and she almost barks out a laugh at that. Don't move, indeed.

He raises his eyebrows at the same time as his head, mouth dropping open when he sees her. She turns her back to him, hiding her flushed face, and wraps her arms around her waist.

"Unzip me, thanks."

She feels his cool hand on her body right away, brushing her hair to the side, combing it from her right ear to her left shoulder two more times for good measure, and she shivers. He runs his finger down to her dress, holding the fabric against her body, and takes his time to pull down the zip, all the way to the small of her back. She swears she hears him breathe her in, so she stays still for a few seconds, waiting for him to make a move, clenching her jaw at her foolishness when nothing happens.

"Turn around," she says, wincing when it comes out a little harsher than she intended, then turning around herself and keeping an eye on his back as she removes her dress and her bra, and slips into the nightie.

It hits her above the knee, but does little to cover up her chest, and Rose shakes her head at her mum for jumping to conclusions. She places her bundle of clothes on the dresser and pads over to the bed, crawls into it and leans her back against the headboard, hugging a throw pillow close to her body.

"'Kay, you can turn back around, now."

He complies, eyes landing at her bare feet, following the length of her out-stretched legs before tearing his gaze off her and staring at his Chucks. She sighs.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have– I don't know what came over me." She rubs her face and sighs again. "I didn't think– I mean, I knew you were drunk, yeah, but I thought you knew what we were doing."

He nods.

"What's that even mean?" she asks, but he doesn't reply. "God, Doctor. Are you nodding to show me that you're hearing what I'm saying? Or to show me you understand? Or are you agreeing? _Did_ you know what we were doing?"

He nods.

"You regret it, then?"

He shakes his head.

"No? Then why–" She exhales. "You weren't there! And all day you've been all–" She leans forward, trying to catch his eye to get a sense of what he's thinking or feeling, but he keeps his eyes on his shoes. "God. I can't even think clearly when you're just standing there like a muppet staring at your trainers! Just sit down, look at me and talk to me like a normal person!" She scrunches up her face and closes her eyes, cursing herself for letting her temper get the better of her, and opens her mouth to apologise when she feels the mattress dipping. She laughs. "God, do you obey my every–" Her breath rushes out of her. "I'm sorry. I didn't–"

"Yes."

She opens her eyes, finding him staring back at her, gaze dark and hungry, just as when he buried his face between her thighs and made her come with his mouth. A thrill shoots through her, straight to her core, and her breath hitches. She waits for him to break eye contact, but he only shifts his body towards hers. Her jaw slackens, mind piecing together everything that's happened since yesterday.

"Take off your jumper." Her eyes widen when she hears the words fly out of her mouth, and she can barely disguise her gasp when he tugs off the garment and throws it on the floor without hesitation. "Your shirt, too," she says and, when he starts loosen the knot of his tie, adds, "leave the tie on."

He slips the buttons through the holes until he can shrug off the shirt, letting it join the jumper. She takes a moment, anticipation coiling in her stomach, and tries to think this through. They should talk–they _need_ to talk–but he's half-naked in her bed, staring at her with such raw desire all her thoughts jumble into a complicated mess she never could untangle with all these hormones flooding her system. Taking a deep breath, she stands up and, with her head held high, positions herself in front of him.

"Doctor. I know you had a few drinks with my dad. Are you even the slightest bit drunk right now?" He shakes his head and she nods. "If I do anything–anything at all–you don't like, if you change your mind, if you don't want this, just use a safe word, yeah? Just say," she takes a look around the room for inspiration, "'ugly Christmas jumper' and I'll stop."

His chuckles, but schools his features when she puts her hands on her hips and arches an eyebrow at him.

"Is this funny to you?"

He ducks his head. "I'm sorry."

She leans forward and grabs his chin, tilting his head back up and looking into his eyes. "You're not allowed to talk. Your tongue is only good for one thing from now on."

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open and, for the briefest moment, she's scared she misunderstood what he wants, expects him to utter the safe word, but then he moves his head in quick, short nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Strip, remove the bedspread, and lie down on your back," she says without looking at him, turning on the lamp on one of the nightstands before moving to the door to lock it and turn off the ceiling lights.

When she turns back around, she finds him already in position, half hard and devouring her with his eyes. She saunters up to the bed, running her fingers along his leg, over his hipbone, up to his nipple, pinching it before skating her hands up her own thighs, under the nightgown, and slipping off her knickers. She climbs up in bed and swings one leg across his torso, straddling his chest. He gazes up at her with a dazed expression when she scoots forward until her sex hovers over his open mouth.

"Do you want to taste me?" she asks, lifting up the skirt of her nightie. He nods, eyes darting down to her chin, back up, then down to her chest before flying up to her face. "You may look, Doctor."

It strikes her that she still hasn't shaved, didn't even think about it when she showered this morning, never thought she'd spend her night sitting on the Doctor's face after waking up in an empty bed. She nearly covers herself up when self-consciousness hits her, but it vanishes the second he lowers his gaze and breathes out in awe, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint, open smile.

She places two fingers on his bottom lip. "Wet them." He sucks them into his mouth, tongue swirling around her digits, and she stifles a whimper at the sensation. She pulls them back and, holding her nightgown up with one hand, pleasures herself with her wet fingers before bringing them to her lips. His smile falls, eyebrows drawn together, bottom lip pouting, when she licks them clean.

Smirking at him, she starts touching herself in earnest and has to struggle to keep her expression when pleasure coils inside her. She slows down, fingers stroking lazy circles, to catch her breath.

"You're not allowed to taste me yet, Doctor, 'cause–"

She pauses. Should she bring their personal issues into this? Punish him for it? She's never done anything like this before. Fuck. She gives herself a mental slap for not taking the time to establish the rules before doing this. They're too far gone now, though. They can talk tomorrow.

"You're not allowed, 'cause my fingers are much, much better than your tongue."

"Are not!" The Doctor shuts his mouth with a click, blushing pink.

Rose raises her eyebrows at him and, clucking her tongue and shaking her head, taps him on the lips. She moves off the bed without looking at him and walks over to the dresser, grabbing her knickers on the way. She pulls off the nightie and folds it into a square, taking a lot more time than someone who's worked at Henrik's needs, then does the same with her dress. Picking up her bra as well, she creates a neat stack out of the clothes on top of the dresser and steps back with a pleased nod.

In her peripheral vision, she sees him staring at her the whole time, eyes burning, adoring, and it feeds her confidence, inspires her to trust her instincts as she plays her part. He's completely hard now, and she can almost taste him on her tongue–salty, warm, and just a tad of spicy sweetness she's never felt with a human bloke–but she ignores the aching need in her body and picks up his discarded garments, folding them into a second stack and places it next to the first.

She turns around, tilts her head to the side and lets her eyes wander over his body, appraising him with a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat. He wets his lips and swallows, hands twitching by his sides, erection twitching against his stomach. She crawls back into the bed, at the foot side, running her lips up his calf, his inner thigh, and nuzzles the crease where it meets his hip, breathing him in. Moving down a little, she teases his sack and length before taking him into her mouth, only to release him as soon as he moans and fists the sheet. She nibbles her way up his abdomen, chuckling when he hisses and sucks in his stomach. After kissing both nipples, she straddles his chest again and grabs his tie.

"I've masturbated since I was thirteen, Doctor." She wraps the cool silk around her hand and gives him a tug. "You really think your tongue is better than my fingers?" He nods. "Prove it," she says, slipping her hand under his head and propping him up as she moves closer to his mouth.

He takes a long lick, moaning when he thrusts his tongue into her and swirls it around. She grabs the headboard with her free hand when he pleasures her as if it's all he's been thinking about since last night, emitting hungry noises, digging his fingers into her hips, until her thighs tremble. She lets out short keening sounds, scratching her nails against his scalp, when he focusses right where she needs him.

"Fuck, Doctor," she says through pants, letting go of his head to reach behind her and grab him.

She's too overcome by pleasure to give him anything but sloppy strokes, but he groans against her, bucks into her hand and, when she feels a drop of moisture under her fingertips and brings them to her mouth, licking his taste of her fingers, he breathes out a curse in his native tongue. It takes her several seconds to remember that she should punish him for speaking out of turn, but his quick licks have already pushed her so close to the edge she can't do anything but grip the headboard with both hands and spread her legs farther to press harder against his mouth.

Her head lolls back, her hair dancing across her skin, tickling her, when he releases one hip, nudges his hand in between them and slides his fingers into her, pushing into her spot. She bucks forward and slams her eyes shut when the sensations building in her core erupt and shoot through her, tearing a strangled shout from her throat, convulsing her whole body until she slumps against the headboard. She opens her eyes, lazy smile on her lips, and watches the Doctor lap at her with a slow, gentle tongue. She shudders from pleasure and wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, moving off him on unsteady legs.

She flops down on her back and lets her breathing calm down for a moment before she reaches out and fumbles after his tie, tugging him towards her. "C'mere."

She scoots under him as he climbs on top of her, settling in the middle of the bed. With a smile on her lips, she runs her fingers through his hair and cups the back of his head, bringing his mouth to hers. She sucks her wetness off his lips, his tongue, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him flush to her when he kisses her back with such hunger she feels as though she never can be close enough. He nudges her entrance, then slips up and rubs where she's sensitive, and she angles her hips to guide him back. He releases her mouth and pulls back, hooded eyes searching hers for permission.

"Fuck me, Doctor."

He nods and, closing his eyes, sinks into her on an exhale. Her chest rises with a happy sigh and she can't stop a goofy grin from spreading on her face. Confessions and declarations rest on her tongue, but she swallows them and presses a kiss to his Adam's apple. She'll tell him afterwards. He pulls back his hips, then pushes into her with a groan, just rocking for a bit before repeating the motion. Just like last night, it's bumpy at first, but this time he stills before they find their rhythm. He has yet to open his eyes, but his brow is knitted and she reaches up to cup his cheek.

"Ugly Christmas jumper," she says. His eyes fly open and he tries to shy away, but she keeps him in place with a firm hold of her legs. "You can stay, Doctor. I just wanna ask you something as myself, yeah?" He nods. "Are you all right? You seem a little…" She trails off with a helpless shrug.

He croaks out something, then clears his throat. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm–" The furrow of his brow deepens. "I'm-I'm not drunk." He swallows. "That's not what– What I mean is– It's so..."

Worrying her lip, she waits for him to continue, but he still struggles for words, so she slides her legs down and releases him.

"Sit down with your back against the headboard," she says in a firm tone and he relaxes with a sigh, obeying right away.

She stands up and, grabbing the headboard with one hand to keep her balance, places one foot on either side of his legs and pushes him closer with her other hand by cupping the back of his head. He nuzzles her, tongue darting out to lick her, eyes adoring her. She lets him pleasure her for a while, moaning as he relights her desire until the need for him grows so strong, she starts clenching after something to fill her. Dropping down on her knees, she wraps her fingers around him and nips at his bottom lip, jaw line, earlobe, the dimple in his chin, as lines him up and takes him all in.

She moves his hands to cup her bum, urging him to help her glide up and down his length, then links her arms around his neck and captures his lips. Their teeth clash and noses bump from her bouncing, but neither pulls away from the kissing, and she clings to him as they fuck, their rhythms finally matching. She doesn't break away until the coiling low in her abdomen tightens to the point where she only needs a little touch to reach her climax, and she wets her fingers, rubbing herself in time with their thrusts. The coil snaps seconds later and she sinks her teeth into his shoulder when she shatters around him with such an intense orgasm her vision turns black and her ears ring; yet, she still has enough presence of mind to clasp a hand over his mouth, muffling his loud release when he, soon after, tenses up and follows her.

She rocks in his lap until he feels lax in her arms and she relaxes herself, leaning her head on his shoulder and kissing first the bitemark, then his neck, with smiling lips.

"How are you feeling?" she whispers into his ear.

He clears his throat and breathes in. "Fine," he says on the exhale, nodding. "Good."

She pulls back to look him in the eye, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. "Yeah?"

His mouth quirks into a faint smile. "Yes."

"Can I...can I kiss you?" He nods, so she grins and leans in, kissing him until she needs to break free for air. "'Kay. I just need to freshen up. Maybe you need that, too? Do you-do you want to take a shower with me?"

He swallows, eyebrows shooting up. "Eer…" He rubs his neck. "Well…"

"We don't need to, if it makes you uncomfortable." She kisses the tip of his nose. "I'll go wash and I'll bring a flannel for you, yeah?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"And you'll…" She releases a breathy laugh, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "You'll be here when I get out, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I–" She shakes her head with a smile, kissing him again before heading to the en suite.

It doesn't hit her that they forgot about protection until she washes herself. She sucks in a sharp breath, rushes through her evening routine, and darts back into the room, waving around the damp flannel she prepared for him. The Doctor stiffens, eyes following her hand's movement before returning to stare at her.

"What?"

"We didn't use that gel thing!"

"What gel thing?"

"Protection!"

"Ooooh." He smiles. "I have a pill in the infirmary. As long as you take it within twenty hours, we're fine."

"Okay, good. So," she says, walking to the dresser. "Wanna sleep starkers or do you use jimjams?"

"Ehm…" His mouth open and closes a few times. "What-what do you think?"

"What do you wear in bed at home?"

"Well. Nothing. Or-or just my underpants."

"Okay, starkers, then?" she asks, smiling. His eyes drift over her body, cheeks turning pink, but he nods, so she turns off the lamp on the nightstand and crawls into bed with him. "D'you wanna spoon?"

"Spoon?"

"Yeah, you know, like we did on Krop Tor."

"Oh. Do _you_ want to spoon?"

"Yeah."

"Right. Yep." He wraps his arm around her and tugs her closer. "Yes, I want to spoon," he says into her skin, voice soft.

They lie in silence for a moment–him resting his nose on her shoulder; her running her fingers up and down his forearm–before she whispers, "Was I good?"

"Hm?"

"You know. Uhm, the, uhm… How I acted."

She hears him smile as he exhales. "You were perfect."

Warmth blooms in her chest, spreading out in her body, tugging the corners of her mouth upwards. "Oh. Thanks. I've never done this before, so I didn't… I wasn't sure what you wanted me to do."

"Well," he says with a shrug. "I've not done this before, either."

She turns in his arms, looking up at him. "You haven't?"

"Nope."

"But… Oooh." She nods and grins, poking his chest. "New kink for this body?"

"I suppose… Or, no. I'm not–" The colour of his cheeks darken. "I think the old one had it, too."

"You think? You never had sex in that body?"

"No, I've–" He pauses. "No. No, I never did."

"Not in this one either?"

"Nope."

"But I thought–" She smiles from relief and tilts her head up, kissing him. "Me neither. Not since before you took my hand in the basement."

His face splits into a grin. "Oh."

She giggles, following his happy crinkles with her finger. "You're smiling."

He nods. "Yes, I am."

"So, you're gonna be here when I wake up tomorrow, then?"

"Yes."

She licks her lips, raking her fingers through the hair on his chest. "'Cause I want you to? Or 'cause _you_ want to?"

"Both."

"Yeah? Even when I tell you that we're still having that talk? 'Cause I think we need to."

"Yes."

"Good. Reckon we should talk about this as well."

"About what?"

"This. The shagging. I mean, for the future. Like, what do you want? Are you into pain and that? Or just, you know, me being the boss?" she asks with a grin.

"I… I'm not sure."

"Oh. 'Kay. Uhm… What about– What I did, it was a bit…uhm… Should I be rougher, then? Rougher than that."

"I don't–" He sighs and rubs his eyes. "I don't want to tell you what you should do. That's not..." He shuts his mouth and shakes his head.

"Oooh. Right. Defeats the purpose, right? So, I should just trust my instinct, maybe try a few things, and you'll stop me with the safe word if you feel uncomfortable?"

He breathes out a smile and nods.

"And should we choose a new one or is 'ugly Christmas jumper' okay?"

"It's rather long, I suppose. What about…" He hums as he thinks, nose crinkling. "Curtains."

She laughs. "Yeah. Let's go with curtains."

"And you…" He lifts his head, eyes searching hers, brows drawn together. "You're fine with this?"

"You know what?" A soft smile blooms on her face. "I _loved_ it."

"You did?"

"Yeah, couldn't you tell?"

His breath whooshes out of him, head relaxing on the pillow. "I wasn't sure. Didn't know if…" He narrows his eyes. "You really loved it? You're not just..."

"Yeah, I did. You make me feel–" She bites her lip, chuckling. "God, this is gonna sound so cheesy, but you make me feel like a queen or a goddess or something. It's, uhm, it's..." She grins with her tongue poking out between her teeth. "It's really hot."

He beams. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She cups his cheek, bringing his mouth to hers, sliding her lips over his in slow movements. "But it's just in the bedroom, right?"

His lips curl into a displeased frown. "Yes. Don't much fancy people ordering me about. Well..." He ducks his head. "Only you. And only when we're…"

"Yeah." She tilts his chin up, brushing her lips over his. "Doctor? About the protection, though. Is there even a possibility? I mean, that you and me could, you know…"

"I don't think so, Rose, " he says, shaking his head, bumping their noses together.

"Can you make sure, though? 'Cause if we don't need protection, I'd rather not bother with it, you know what I mean?"

"I can run tests tomorrow."

"Okay." She cuddles closer, burrowing her face into his chest, breathing him in. "And… Are you really gonna be here tomorrow when I wake up?" she whispers, lips moving over his skin.

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"Yes." He tightens his hold around her. "I promise."

* * *

**tbc**


End file.
